


Can You Just Hold Me?

by spideysmjs



Series: Spideychelle Week 2020 [5]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Phone Sex, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:13:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 37,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22356961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spideysmjs/pseuds/spideysmjs
Summary: “I’ve thought about this for a long time,” she moans as his strokes move faster. “I always–”“Me too,” he says, moving his mouth from her neck to her mouth, peppering multiple kisses while slams into her. “All the time.”“Yeah,” she breathes. “And it’s everything I thought it would be.”“Everything.”Peter and MJ hook up, and everything falls apart before it comes back together.**NOW COMPLETE**
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Series: Spideychelle Week 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1797640
Comments: 165
Kudos: 423
Collections: Spideychelle Week 2020





	1. chapter one

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to do a One Bed fic based off these prompts I found on Tumblr:
> 
> 40) “I love the way you look with my fingers inside you.”  
> 77) “Tell me what you like.”  
> 90) “What’s wrong? I thought you liked teasing.”
> 
> Enjoy!

“You can’t bail on us,” MJ says, throwing a pile of Peter’s clothes onto his open suitcase as he mopes on his bedroom floor. “It’s been months since we had this planned.”

He sighs and leans his head on the edge of his bedroom.

“I don’t know. I don’t think I’m ready for a weekend getaway.” 

“We’re going to be with our best friends, Parker. It’ll be a fun time.” 

“But–”

“And we already paid for the AirBnB, so if you leave that’ll just fuck up how we split it.” Peter groans again, watching MJ intricately roll his clothes into the suitcase. “It’s only a few days in Vermont. We’re going to do sporty fun things, eat good food, and drink your heartbreak away.” 

It’s not that he’s heartbroken – not really. It’s just that he thought things with Liz were going well until he made the mistake of being too forward with her and discussing the future of their relationship when they had only been dating for three months. 

Really, it’s just a bummer. Plus, he hasn’t had the chance to be Spider-Man for a couple of weeks because of the midterms he’s pretty sure he’s failing. So adding another weekend to be whisked away to another state without the opportunity to don on his suit for at least a few hours makes things even more of a bummer. 

“I’m not heartbroken,” he explains. “I just don’t know what’s wrong with me.” 

MJ stops scrambling for his toiletries, looking at Peter with sincere eyes, and grazes her hand on his thigh, patting it gently. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Peter.” 

Peter’s eyes are glued to the way her hands continue to tap and soothe his leg. “Then why is every person I’m interested in not interested back?” 

“Because they’re all dumb,” she lifts her hand off swiftly, clasping it to her other. “You’re the sweetest guy ever.” 

“You think so?”

“Of course.” He finally looks at MJ. Her eyes, usually emotionless from her deadpan glare, are soft and twinkling in a way that makes Peter’s heart kind of jump. Moments like this are rare with MJ, and Peter has been lucky enough to be the one who experiences them constantly. “You just need to stop looking for a while, and the right person will end up in front of you.”

“Thanks,” he smiles, feeling a little better about himself than just moments ago, but at the same time, slightly deflated because the right person’s been in front of him for a while and he knows she won’t feel the same way. 

“Now finish packing yourself, loser. I’m bored.” She tosses the toiletry bag onto the suitcase and walks out of his bedroom to hang out with Betty and Ned – all three of them already finished packing. She leaves the door ajar, and Peter watches through the opening his friends laughing at a comedy show Ned recommended. 

MJ grins at whatever joke was made while the other two throw their heads back in joyful tears. She rarely cackles at anything, except for Peter’s dumb jokes and sly comments about the way Betty and Ned can’t seem to keep their hands off each other. 

Peter shudders at the thought of their PDA, and how he’ll have to stomach watching it throughout the weekend, a constant reminder of how he’s had bad luck with the past three people he’s dated all within the span of a year. Maybe Peter’s not cut out for the dating game and seeing the way Ned and Betty act around each other after confessing their love for one another only makes him wish he had something similar to their relationship. 

Especially because the person Peter wishes that same experience with is so close, sitting in the living room in between the love birds, yet so far away because MJ would never even consider the thought of being with Peter despite the fact that it crosses his mind every day.

* * *

Ned jumps out of the passenger seat before Peter can even turn off the engine after spending the last hour of the drive downing a large blue raspberry slurpee from the gas station even though Betty warned him about his small bladder. Betty stumbles out of the backseat when she realizes, after being the one in charge of booking the AirBnb, she’s the one that has access to unlocking the front door. 

Peter chuckles. “They’re truly made for one another.” 

A sharp laugh comes out of MJ’s throat making Peter feel accomplished. “One day your Ned and Betty jokes are going to slap you in the face.” 

“Go ahead and tell them. They know it’s true.” 

MJ shakes her head, but a tugged grin falls on her face like a long-awaited approval. “Come on, dork, let’s head inside.” 

They lug their suitcases into the wooden cabin, the fleeting feeling of the holiday season still lingering with the aroma of pine peppered around the lights and the owner’s Christmas lights still hanging against the thick layer of snow on the rooftop. Immediately, MJ runs to the thermostat to rid of the brisk, Vermont breeze sending shivers down her spine. 

Ned returns from the restroom with a face of relief and Betty follows closely behind him with concerned eyebrows and a cautious smile. 

“So don’t hate me,” she says, her voice an octave higher than usual. Peter tilts his head, arms crossed and ready to receive terrible news. “I booked the house and it said enough for four people, and there’s two bedrooms, but… only one bed in each.”

“Oh,” both Peter and MJ say simultaneously.

“MJ can take the room,” Peter tries to fix the situation immediately. “I know she likes her space when she sleeps.” 

He thinks back to their old sleepovers in Ned and Peter’s dorm, MJ always kicked him off the floor from his Twin XL bed. Suddenly, he’s thankful for no longer being in a cramped dorm with another person.

“I’m sorry,” Betty frowns. 

“Totally cool Betty,” MJ says. “And Peter, don’t be ridiculous. Just sleep in the room with me.”

“I didn’t offer for _you_. I offered for myself because you always kick me,” Peter quips, a shit-eating grin on his face. She shoulders him. 

“You two can take the master bedroom. There’s a king-sized bed and the owners said it’s remastered. You’ll be comfortable despite the one bed,” Betty offers. “Ned and I can take the other room.” 

“Aw.” Ned’s remark earns a glare from Betty. “But that’s totally okay guys! I love cuddling with Betty anyway.” 

Peter jokingly gags, but his eyes are bright in admiration for his best friends’ blooming relationship. When he opens the door to the master bedroom, it’s like he enters an entirely new AirBnb, the room looking more modern in comparison to the rest of the cabin. Attached to the left is the master bathroom with a sheer curtain blocking the entrance. 

He tucks his suitcase in the corner of the room next to MJ’s duffle bag. 

“I can see why Ned’s slightly disappointed he won’t be here,” MJ stands in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips, scoping every inch of the interior design. “I almost kind of feel bad.” 

“It’s not too late to switch,” Peter suggests. 

“I said _almost_ , Parker,” she narrows her eyes, a sly smirk across her lips. “This bathtub is killer, and the bed is so huge I could forget you even exist.”

“Ouch,” he pouts.

“But I would never,” she saves herself, but her voice never falters from the blunt expression she always delivers her jokes with. 

Peter walks towards MJ and throws his hands up in the air, feigning defeat. “You know if you really want the room to yourself, it’s fine, I understand.” 

“Don’t be so dramatic,” she places a hand on his chest to stop him from walking. A beat of silence washes over them as Peter looks at the rings on her hand and studies the way her fingertips feel on him. She lets go when she hears his stomach growl with hunger. “Dinner?”

“Yeah,” he breathes, watching MJ turn around and walk out of the room, eyes glued to the way her legs stride in silent confidence. 

He blames the tight feeling his chest on the romantic ambiance to the room, and subsequently, on Betty for suggesting to switch bedrooms when Peter was completely okay with taking refuge on the living room couch. 

Peter shakes away the unnamed emotion sinking into his gut. 

* * *

“So, this is Larry's Bar and Grill from your itinerary?” MJ deadpans as the wooden double doors close on the group to reveal a close-to-empty restaurant, with a couple of older-looking men grouped near the bar countertop. 

“Yelp says it’s four stars,” Betty shrugs, shuffling her way inside as she grabs the waitress’ attention and gestures to an empty booth for the four of them to finally eat dinner. 

“That’s a good rating,” Peter smiles at Betty for reassurance. She needs a pick me up after believing she almost ruined the weekend with the AirBnB, which Peter knew was far from the truth. She’s doing her best, and the food is probably delicious if it earns four stars from the general public. 

The grilled fish he orders is decent with a bottle of Pacifico since the waitress claimed it pairs well with seafood. Luckily, it’s happy hour, so he encourages his friends to order a couple of rounds of $3 shots of vodka promising to be the designated driver for them. 

“That just means you have to catch up,” Ned laughs as he downs his fourth shot of vodka within the hour, almost slamming the glass against the table. 

“Relax, Ned,” Peter panics. “And yes, I’ll catch up when we get home.” 

“You better,” MJ pouts. It’s a look that only comes out when she’s a few shots in, Peter aware that she becomes softer towards him the further away she is from sobriety. Her hand slips down to his thigh as she turns her head to face him. “Promise?”

“Yes, MJ, promise,” he says. He doesn’t comment about the way her hand starts sliding up and down his leg and continues to pick at the remainder of his meal. MJ’s always been handsy with him, and he’s been handsy back. 

It’s completely normal.

* * *

Peter successfully corrals his drunk friends into the car long after they’ve paid the bill. Drunk 20-somethings have never been easy to group together when you’re the designated sober friend. They’re all roaring about something Peter had said to the waitress as they walked away, claiming he’d been trying to flirt with her all night. 

“I was _not_ ,” he says, the tips of his ears tinted red, a color blended from the mixture of the dropping temperature and his rising embarrassment. 

To be fair, he really wasn’t. And his friends were overexaggerating since he was just being polite, and he was the only one sober enough to talk to her anyway. 

“Okay, but she was totally into you,” Betty snorts. “It’s your dorkiness that’s charming.” 

“Agreed,” Ned’s voice slurs. “You should go back and get her number.”

“Oh, Pete you should do it. It’ll help you get over Liz,” Betty does a min round of applause to herself. 

“I’m not doing that,” he argues back. “And I’m not even upset about Liz.” 

“That’s not what MJ told me,” Betty replies. Peter’s taken aback, both hands on the wheel ready to start the car but his eyes trying to sneak a glance at MJ through the rearview mirror. 

“Shut up Betty,” she elbows her side. It’s the first words MJ’s said since entering the car, but Peter pretends that means nothing.

“No, but it’s true, you were all grumbly about it,” Ned pipes up.

“You talking about me, Em?” he teases. 

“Only because your life is more entertaining than mine,” she rolls her eyes. “Please drive back to the place now so you can take your shots.” 

Sometimes, their friendships can be way too close and Peter knows it – gossip spreading around their tight circle quicker than he can swing between skyscrapers. The openness of their relationships can be rough, but times like this – times where Peter learns a little more about the possible meaning behind MJ caressing his thigh at the restaurant – are a lot more amusing than not. 

But that’s for his own entertainment, scenarios that he creates in his head because he knows it could never be true. MJ is Peter’s best friend. Nothing more. 

Somehow, the three convince Peter to down the same amount of shots in a shorter amount of time, a fire burning within Peter’s stomach when he rushes to the bathroom to pee for the third time only after an hour of returning from dinner. 

The air inside the cabin feels warm, attaching itself onto Peter’s skin after he’d already taken off his outer layers. His head feels lighter, and he presses his palms on the cheeks of his face feeling the heat rising from alcohol. 

They’ve spent the beginning of the night playing lightning rounds of _Uno_ with each person who gets out having to take another shot and the winner being awarded the opportunity to have someone take a shot. 

So far, MJ’s won three times and has given one shot to Ned and the other two to Peter. 

“I can’t drink anymore,” Ned blurts out as MJ wins one more time. Peter agrees, head spinning as he watches two of Ned get up from his seat and grab water from the kitchen. 

“Lame.” MJ grabs the handle of Vodka and pours a shot for herself, gesturing to Betty if she’d like one. Betty shakes her head, hand pressed on her own chest as if to help her breathe. “You’re all lightweights!” 

“MJ, we’ve taken, like, eight shots each,” Peter says. “I think we’re good.”

She downs her ninth shot. “I can keep going.” 

“I’m cutting you off,” Peter says, grabbing the bottle as she tries to chase after it. “It’s for your own good.” 

“Yeah, MJ, you don’t want to be sending messages you might regret,” she laughs. 

“Shouldn’t you be saying that to Peter?” MJ rolls her eyes as she scrolls through her phone. “He’s the one with a dating app and a history of bad relationships.”

“You keep coming at me today with insults,” Peter groans. “What did I do?” 

“Nothing,” she says. “I’m just telling the truth. You know I can’t help it.” 

Heat rises higher on Peter’s face, a little agitated at MJ’s remarks. He fights the negative feeling knowing that she’s being as blunt as she usually is and his sensitivity is higher because of vodka. The truth is the truth. 

“So what if my relationships have been awful? At least I’ve been on dates,” he retorts. 

“I don’t go on dates because I don’t care for it.” 

“Whatever.” He’s stumped, arms crossed against his chest. “I’m retiring to the room.”

“Come on, don’t be so butthurt,” she frowns. 

“I’m not butthurt,” Peter fights, shoulders deflated. He’d rather not hear MJ talk about his own relationships. Especially when he hasn’t been able to keep his eyes off of her this entire night. “I just… I need to shower.” 

He scoots out of the table, patting Ned on the back as his buddy returns to the seat from getting water. “Guys, I may have thrown up in the sink.”

Betty and MJ gag in disgust and tease Ned as Peter stalks off into the bedroom, a desire to wash away the confused feeling latching onto his body when he thinks about MJ. 

* * *

Peter doesn’t bother to put the pile of clothes back into his suitcase after dressing, the alcohol inhibiting him from cleaning up his terror of grabbing his favorite sleeping shirt that was conveniently shoved at the bottom of his case. Despite the warmth from the heater making his skin feel sticky when he steps out of the restroom, he feels cleaner and his mind is less cramped from overthinking.

He contemplates whether or not he should reappear outside, but opts out knowing he’d be coerced into drinking more, which isn’t a very intelligent decision on his part. He’s already having a difficult time crawling into the springy bed, the squeakiness in his movements giving him a mild headache. 

There are a few online articles he’s bookmarked about Spider-Man that he’d been planning to skim over when he had free time, but as soon as he clicks on the first one, MJ stumbles loudly through the door, nearly falling on the floor until she collects herself and sits on the wood voluntarily.

He shoots up immediately in panic.

“You okay?” he asks cautiously.

“M’fine,” she says. “Do you hate me?”

“What?” Peter jerks back, body almost hitting the headboard. “No.”

“It’s just that you stormed off when I kept running my mouth.”

“You always run your mouth,” he jokes. She huffs, clearly not pleased or prepared to exchange a quip. “I could never hate you, MJ, you’re my favorite person ever.”

“Really?”

“I never lie,” he states.

“Thanks. You're my favorite person too,” she stays on the floor. “These shots are making me feel like shit.”

“I showered and I feel better.”

“That’s why you smell so good,” she gets up to walk to her luggage. “You always smell good. Even when you’re sweaty.”

“Thanks?” Peter feels that same, damn feeling starting again this time in his throat as he swallows thickly. MJ only hums in response before she grabs a pile of clothes and moves to the bathroom.

“No peeking.” 

“I won’t peek.” 

“And I’ll be sure of that how?”

“I can leave the room if you want me to.”

“No, don’t leave.” 

“Then I’ll just turn and face the wall.” 

“Okay,” she says as she starts undressing, her shirt lifting over her head and Peter catching a glimpse of her smooth waist before turning like he promised he would. 

“Okay,” he says, heart pumping quickly knowing MJ’s exposed body is just a turn of the head away. He stares daggers at the wall, memorizing the patterns of the old wood in an attempt to get the picture of MJ out of his head. 

Ten minutes feels like an eternity, Peter had forgotten about the articles he’d meant to read. Finally, the sound of the showerhead spewing hot water stops. Peter waits another five minutes because she’s probably drying her bare skin off and slipping into something comfortable. He tries not to picture beads of water accentuating the curves of her body – his curiosity is just the result of too much liquid courage. 

“You can open your eyes now,” she says. He does so, turning around to face her and seeing her long legs exposed because she’s only wearing a large shirt, and holy shit. 

“Are you wearing my shirt?” he asks, immediately identifying that it’s his because there’s no way MJ would ever purchase her own _Star Wars_ shirt. The end of it covers her bottom region ever so slightly in a way that if she were to lift up her arms and stretch, Peter would be able to see the fabric that’s hiding beneath it. 

His nerves strike him again when she answers. “Well, you threw all your clothes around so I just grabbed whatever. That’s fine right?” 

MJ has worn a lot of his jackets before – this is nothing new. Except Peter’s shirt is probably the only thing she’s wearing besides her underwear and his brain is feels like it’s fried. 

“Yeah,” he swallows. “It’s fine.”

She crawls into bed, a safe distance placed between them. “Ned threw up again.”

“Bummer,” he says. “Is he alright?”

“He’s fine. Betty said she’d take care of him throughout the night.”

“That’s sweet,” he sets his phone down on the bedside table, focusing his attention on MJ and still feeling a good level of buzzed. 

“Yeah. They’re cute,” she whispers. A beat. “Sometimes it’s not fair.”

“What do you mean?”

She turns to face him, laying on her side with one arm perched on its elbow as it supports her hand cupping her face. The other arm is resting on her thigh, and Peter’s shirt is hiked up but he doesn’t dare look lower than he should. 

“I don’t like sounding jealous, but consistent sex and a healthy support system sounds wonderful,” she whispers like it’s a secret. 

“You have a healthy support system,” he says. “You have me and them!” 

“Thanks,” she says, “That’s half of it, I guess.” 

“The other half is,” he mumbles, stuttering over what to respond. “It’s overhyped, you know?”

“Really?” she raises her eyebrows. “Maybe you just weren’t having good consistent sex.”

“It’s not as fun when…nevermind,” Peter falters.

“When what?”

“Nothing,” he says. She sits up, crossing her legs and putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Tell me,” she pouts. It’s cute and it works. 

“It’s not fun when you’re not really into the person.” MJ takes her hand off his shoulder, mouth making the shape of an O.

“I thought you were into Liz.” 

“She was cool, yeah, but,” he pauses, “but when she ended things I understood why.” 

“I see.” 

“Plus,” he rambles, “she didn’t like teasing which is like… Sorry, I don’t know why I’m saying this.” 

“It’s okay,” she laughs. “Teasing is fun. I like teasing. You’re very valid in your frustrations.”

“Right?” he feels riled up about the topic. “It’s a good build up and it makes the rest of the time so much more–”

“Passionate.” 

“Yeah,” he looks at her, “passionate.”

“Passion’s nice,” she says, scooting closer to him. “I always thought passion was a result of compatibility and closeness.”

“It is,” he swallows, a thick and nervous thing. She inches closer, one of her hands moving from her lap to trace up and down Peter’s arm. Her fingertips feel electric and his heart pumps faster. He’s still sitting up right, tucked underneath the comforter with his knuckles turning white from one hand gripping the edge of the bed and the other pressing against firmly the mattress. 

She stops her fingers from moving against his bicep and changes her posture to lean against the headboard, mirroring his position but with her thigh against his despite sitting in a king-sized mattress intended to create space between them for MJ’s comfort. 

“I wonder what it’s like to have passionate sex,” she says.

“You’ve never?”

“I mean, not really. There’s been a lot of good times. But I haven’t been in a relationship long enough to really get into it as much as I would like to.”

He nearly chokes on his own saliva. “Right.”

“It must feel good,” she sighs, sinking down so her head rests on the pillow. “I guess I’ll never know.”

She turns over to her side, facing away from Peter as he sinks down, too. Their heads share one pillow and her body is slightly pressed against his. There’s so much room for the both of them to spread their arms and legs on the bed, but he isn’t complaining because when he turns to face her back, MJ scoots in even closer.

Her hand even makes its way to Peter’s, pulling his entire arm over her body. Their fingers are intertwined for just a moment until she lets his hand wander to her thigh. Peter licks his lips, fighting the sensation that’s traveling between his legs, thinking of ways to distract himself. 

Friends can cuddle platonically. Friends can have their hands on their friends’ smooth and supple thighs. It’s normal. This is fine. 

She backs into him more, her butt rubbing on the fabric against his crotch. “Do you ever want to know?"

“Huh?” Peter’s voice cracks. She grabs his hand again, fingers in between his as she moves it slowly against her skin for him. 

“What it’s like to have sex with someone you’re close to,” she says.

“Maybe,” he mumbles, his once shaky hands relaxing against her skin, fingers nearly trace the edge of her panties. She nuzzles closer to him, her neck pressed softly on the tip of his nose. She hums, and he sighs, letting air flow out of his mouth and against her skin. “Okay, yes, I do. All the time.” 

“Me too,” MJ’s breath hitches as he blows more air onto her neck, her entire body squirming from the teasing sensation mixed with Peter’s hands pushing and rubbing her thigh. His hand’s grip is becoming tighter, kneading deeper on her skin. She lets out a pleasurable sigh, silent yet loud as Peter feels himself grow with the way she’s slowly grinding against him.

“What are we doing?” he whispers. 

“I don’t know,” she answers. It’s honest and low, but their bodies continue to move. “We can stop if you want.” 

Instead of an answer, Peter brings his lips completely against her neck, pressing one soft kiss that she melts into. 

“It’s not too late to back out,” she continues. He presses a wetter kiss on her skin with more tongue than before. He keeps going, lips moving closer and closer to the area of her body where her neck meets her shoulder. He gives a soft bite to her shoulder, earning a scratchy and quiet moan from MJ. 

“Is this what you want to know?” he whispers into her ear before nibbling at the lobe. She whines but continues to grind against him. “Is that why you wore my shirt? With nothing else on?” 

She stammers, speechless, the increasing volume of her breath answering his question. A prideful feeling goes to his head, and Peter finds it his goal to get her to breathe louder. Something takes over him, driving him to moan more questions near her ear.

“Do you like it when I bite your ear?” Her head nods. His hand hikes up higher and higher, but never touching the heat in between her legs. “Tell me what you like.” 

“Your– your hands,” she whines and it’s music to his ears. “I want–”

“Want what?” he smirks into his next few kisses. 

“Touch me,” she says, trembling from the way her grinding against him turned into him pushing softly against her. He complies, hand cupping the area where her two legs meet, Peter feeling the damp fabric and shocking himself to know MJ’s already as wet as she is. 

He continues to palm at it, kissing her shoulders as she grumbles. 

“You’re taking a long time,” the tone of her voice shifts back to her normal tone, irritated at Peter’s pace. Somehow, her voice no longer high pitched and whimpering turns Peter on even more, feeling as if they’ve been in this situation before because of the way her tone deflates like she’s delivering a dry joke. 

“Then do something about it,” he returns, his cocky energy still taking over until MJ turns around quickly, slipping away from his grip. She grabs the cotton of his shirt and twists it, pulling him closer to her and kissing him impatiently. MJ doesn’t take her time, her tongue requesting entrance between his lips as it moves across his front teeth.

Before he knows it, her wet lips move to his jaw, leaving a minty scent of along his skin. MJ brings her hand to the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and revealing his stomach. He sits up, pulling the shirt off, but before he can lay back down, MJ throws herself on top of him, both legs on either. She meets his eyes and starts grinding down on his crotch again. 

He whimpers, becoming impossibly harder by the second, wanting a release from the strain of fabric. Instead, MJ finds the own ends of her (his) T-Shirt and throws it over her head, revealing her bare breasts as their breaths becoming louder and louder, filling up the silence of the room and the stillness of the entire cabin.

“Fuck,” he slips. “You look amazing.” 

She stops her grinding for a second, pushing the strands of her hair behind her ear, her confidence falling as her face looks like it’s becoming more and more aware she’s naked in front of Peter. That doesn’t stop him, Peter bringing his hands to her butt and up to the small of her back pushing her down to him. 

He kisses her first this time, their tongues dancing slowly against one another and their chests against each other. She starts swinging her hips around again, trying to recreate the friction from moments prior. Peter can’t handle it anymore, wanting to be inside MJ more than anything in that second. Except he holds back, knowing he wants to make this night the most passionate fucking night of her life. 

She deserves it. 

He flips her over, and she’s surprised – eyes wide with curiosity on his next move. 

Peter smirks.

“Who is this guy and what’s he done with Peter Parker?” she doesn’t miss a moment to tease him.

“Funny,” he breathes, hands going to his waistband to pull of his sweats to feel a slight release of freedom although his boxers still refrain him from being completely comfortable. Patience is a virtue, he reminds himself. He removes his sweatpants completely, kicking it off the bed and into an unknown place before turning back to MJ. 

Her hands are propped behind her head, waiting. Peter eyes her entire body, taking in the image of her curves and smooth skin for a moment. 

“What are you looking at?” she laughs.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, a timid smile forming on his face. “All of you.” 

“You’re beautiful, too.” Her response makes his chest tight. And although this decision might have started from too much liquor and a second of premeasured bravery, he knows what they’re doing – what they’re about to do – has been a long time coming. It’s been an unspoken moment that was bound to happen. 

He lowers himself, hovering over her legs as his hands move up her inner thighs as she squirms to his touch. He massages her for a moment and her physical response is automatic, her legs wrapping around his neck in an attempt to move his mouth to where she wants him most. 

Peter shakes his head, fingers moving under the garter of her panties to pull it down. She scoffs, spreading her legs wide after he removes the cotton completely. 

“What’s wrong? I thought you liked teasing?” he pouts. 

“You’re taking a really long time,” she repeats from earlier, her hands moving down to the top of his hand and running through his hair. “I like teasing, but you’ve done a lot of that, and I would appreciate if–” 

The feeling of his tongue against her folds cuts her sentence short, turning her words into a breathy moan. He laps up and down her center, focusing on the places where he can hear a stronger reaction from her. He’s insistent and careful, tongue moving in languid movements inside her and making its way to her pulsating clit. 

MJ bends her knees to her body, but Peter wraps his arms around her thighs and pulls it back down, wanting to feel her legs writhe next to him as he continues to eat her out fervently. The noises that escape her throat are out of this world, going straight into Peter’s ears and down to his crotch. He lets one of her thighs go and shoves his hand quickly into his boxers, craving the feeling of touch so he wraps his hand around himself and starts stroking. 

“Peter,” she nearly squeals. “Your tongue.” 

He moans into her opening, feeling her body vibrate around him, legs wrapped around his neck. “You taste so good.” 

“God,” she throws her head back, Peter watching from below. He takes his hand out of his boxers, pushing one finger inside her while he continues to tongue her clit. 

“Actually, it’s Peter,” he stops his mouth for a second, but his finger keeps pushing in and out of her. 

“Shut up,” she moans louder than before. “ _Peter, fuck._ ” 

Hearing his name escape MJ’s mouth the way it does makes Peter place another finger inside her. She responds by biting her lip and shutting her eyes as she grips the sheets of the bed. “God, I love the way you look when my fingers are inside you.” 

“Fuck, Peter, if you,” she tries her best to push a sentence from her mouth, fighting the whimpering sounds coming from her own throat, “if you keep talking like th-that, I’m going to come.” 

“Yeah?” he smiles, a devilish look. He takes his mouth away from her clit, body shifting up the bed to be on level with hers, shimmying out of his pants to finally let himself spring out. He presses his chest against her arm, Peter lying on his side with his member touching her waist. 

He brings his fingers down to her clit again, building up the sensation that was lost when they switched positions. Peter’s hovers over her ear, tongue licking the lobe. 

“You’re soaking wet,” he whispers into her. She shivers, body shaking from his touch. His fingers move from her clit and back inside her, moving in and out slowly. “You like this?” 

She nods. Lips smacked together as a way to fight from screaming, only to be letting out weak noises and the sound of his name repeated multiple times. 

“I’m close,” she whispers. He continues to finger her, her wetness spilling onto his hands as he moves lower to gain more momentum, his other arm tight around her waist. “I’m– _God, fuck, Peter, please._ I’m coming.” 

He can feel herself tighten around him while he rubs his fingertips insider her, riding out her first orgasm. She deflates, sinking back into the mattress after her body involuntarily jerked up from pleasure. 

“Your turn,” she says, motioning Peter to come closer. She brings her hand to the back of his neck as their lips crash, Peter’s member rock hard against her thigh. Her free hand travels to herself first, the wet sound of her fingers playing with her labia before wrapping herself around Peter. 

“Oh,” he lets out a deep, husky breath as she strokes him. They continue to kiss, their lips becoming needier and full of want for each other’s taste. He moves to hover over her, steadying his arms at her sides. Peter’s eyes meet MJ’s, both their looks full of not just desire, but something deeper – something that falls beneath the surface of what this all means. 

“Do you have…” begging the question suddenly makes him shy. “A condom?” 

“I’m on the pill,” she says. “As long as you’ve been tested.” 

“I have,” he says. “It’s good of you to make sure.”

“Yeah,” she returns. “I know.” 

They both smile, giggling when he brings the tip of his length to her clit. She arches into the touch and Peter’s patience runs thin as he fills her with all of him in one quick motion, her slickness making it easier for him to slip inside. He rocks his hips back and forth, arms tensing next to her. She brings her hands to his biceps and grips them tight, her mouth still open and her eyes still staring into his, a visceral feeling crashing over Peter and making him rock his hips faster. 

Her legs begin to snake around his hips, pushing his body closer to her, lowering down so his arms wrap around her waist. Her hands move from his curls to the air as she puts her arms around Peter’s neck, bringing him to a kiss. 

“I’ve thought about this for a long time,” she moans as his strokes move faster. “I always–”

“Me too,” he says, moving his mouth from her neck to her mouth, peppering multiple kisses while slams into her. “All the time.” 

“Yeah,” she breathes. “And it’s everything I thought it would be.” 

“Everything,” he repeats, head too clouded by the sound of their skin slapping against each other, the sound of her wetness spilling onto him, the sound both of their breaths combined into a messy, passionate noise. “Everything.” 

“Peter,” she moans. “Peter, look at me.” 

He does, their foreheads pressed against each other as he continues to move his hips, chasing his release but doing his best to make her come before him. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she whispers in between gasps. He can feel the sweat on her skin, the heat of the cabin never once changing, only getting hotter as their bodies became entangled with each other. He watches MJ as she bites her lip, fighting a smile. One particular stroke into her makes her eyes roll back, Peter knowing that she’s close to going over the edge. 

He picks up his pace, feeling her insides tighten around him and her arms no longer around his neck as they fall down to her sides. She moans, completely overcome by the ecstasy of her orgasm, head sinking deeper into the pillow. 

Peter rides it out again, pushing in and out of her quickly so he can come, too. 

“Come for me, Peter,” she says, voice raspy from their adventure and her words interrupted by each stroke. “You fucked me so good, you need to come and I need it all over my body.” 

Those last words push him over the edge as pulls away from her, releasing onto her stomach with his head thrown back and his arms stroking himself impatiently. 

He plops next to her, using his shirt to wipe her tummy. He kisses her lips when he finishes cleaning his mess. “Hey.”

“Hi,” she says. “So.” 

“So.” 

“I should pee.”

“Yeah,” he says, scratching the back of his head. He watches MJ get up and make her way to the bathroom in awe of her strides.

When she comes back, she snuggles into him. “This changes a lot of things.” 

He looks at MJ who’s staring into the space in front of her. 

“Does it really?” 

Air leaves her nostrils. She laughs. “I guess not. I did say you’re my favorite person.” 

“Yeah,” he says. “You can’t expect me to not bring that up every day for the rest of your life now.” 

“I completely expect it.”

A beat. “We can talk about this in the morning.” 

“Yeah,” she says. “For now, can you just…” 

“Just what?” he asks, ready to do anything for MJ. 

“Can you just hold me?” 

He smiles, chest softening. 

“Yeah. Of course I can.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos/comments appreciated!
> 
> Twitter: @spideysmjs / Tumblr: @briens


	2. chapter two

MJ wakes up as if someone’s banging on the metal door to her brain, head throbbing as it’s buried deep within the pillow already knowing it’d be hard to untangle the messy mane and almost not wanting to even bother. 

Her hair tickles her nose as she practices her breaths to wake up, the texture of her hair feeling odd before she realizes her nose is lost in strands of hair that isn’t hers, but Peter’s. 

She inhales. MJ in bed with him – with _Peter_ – their legs tangled in between each other’s, one arm placed softly on her waist and another buried underneath the pillow they shared, MJ doing her best to remember how they rearranged themselves in the middle of the night to face each other. 

In fact, MJ does her best to remember the entire night, only recalling the way his hands roamed her body in a way that she could never have dreamed of, always keeping her attraction to her best friend buried beneath the surface of harmless banter and teasing. 

But as it turns out, from how Peter kissed MJ long and deep throughout the night before, he had solved the puzzle that she broke herself into as a way to push the feelings she’s known since they met.

And, as she recalls the words they exchanged when their bodies aligned with one another, MJ realizes that they had both put their emotions on a silver platter. 

From here on out, their friendship – or whatever they choose to be moving forward – will never be the same, which MJ couldn’t tell if she wanted or not, knowing it’d be best to play it safe and suggest the two of them blame it on alcohol and the remnants of the holiday season, the months from November to early February being the strongest in intensifying feelings of loneliness and yearning. 

The most logical answer with logic being the most powerful thing to use in the middle of all of this, is to put this night past them, MJ knowing Peter would never feel the same way about her.

Not for a girl that’s never truly experienced love in the way that Peter radiates it, a girl that can’t take commitment as seriously as her friends around her, a girl that walks away before she can be left behind. 

Yet… there was a very small pinch in her heart that wanted more from this, wanting to where it would go if she tried this time to not deny the butterflies in her stomach. Her body and brain start to wake up, feeling the growing erection pressed on her legs and the supple surface of Peter’s bare chest rising and falling against her own. 

She can get used to this every morning. 

MJ tried her best to shift carefully out of Peter’s arms to freshen up, brushing her teeth and washing her face before gathering the clothes that were thrown haphazardly on the floor the night before.

The sight of their clothes sprawled all over the floor and bed make MJ’s face feel warm knowing that she can’t really recall how loud the two of them were being either, hoping Betty and Ned were too distracted with their own endeavors to focus on listening to their best friends make love for the first time. The anticipation of their questioning looks only made MJ want to bury this memory even deeper down, not wanting Peter to feel embarrassed of what he’d just done. 

As she pushes the clothes into the corner where their overnight bags lay, the creak of the bed lets her know Peter had woken up, his light snores no longer filling in the silence of the room. 

“Hey,” he croaked, his morning voice sending shivers down her spine, MJ fighting her innate desire of jumping on the bed and kissing him the same way she did last night. Her fingers brushed against her lips as if she can remember the taste of his tongue. 

She truly needs a big glass of water right this second.

“Morning, Parker,” she says, focusing on rolling up their dirty clothes into a bag designated for items they’d need to put in the laundry after the long weekend. 

He inches closer to the edge of the bed they shared, arms reaching out. “Come back.” 

Her heart flies. 

She continues to clean.

“Shouldn’t we check on our friends?” she asks. Peter grabs his phone from the bedside table, eyes squinting at how bright his screen had been. 

“It’s barely 7am,” he explains, Michelle knowing that the amount of alcohol they drank set an internal alarm. She’s surprised that she only has a mild hangover and proud of herself that she’s slowly starting to piece together how she and Peter ended up having sex. 

Peter pouts, arms still extended to try to reach her. It wins her over, MJ already getting up and crawling into his arms as he makes room for her. Though their bodies still fit perfectly against each other as Peter wraps MJ in his arms, she still can’t shake away the overload of thoughts running through her brain about what this could all mean – the thoughts making her body feel tense. 

“Is everything okay, Em?”

“Yeah,” she sighs. “To be quite honest I don’t know how I feel about all of this.” 

“You are a bit tense,” he says, encouraging her to go on her side, Peter turning her body so that he’s facing her back and his hands rest on her shoulders. He starts to massage them. “What are you worried about?”

“Are _you_ not worried?” she avoids the question she knows the answer to.

“I guess,” he starts, thumbs kneading her shoulder blades. She bites on her lip, eyes squeezing hard trying to not make a sound that MJ so badly wants to make. “But if you want, this doesn’t have to be something we talk about right away.” 

“It doesn’t?”

“Let’s just –” he starts and immediately stops. “Jeez, Em, your knots have knots.” 

She takes a deep breath before exhaling. There’s a whimper in her throat after releasing her breath. Peter’s laugh is soft and light. “What were you saying?”

He scoots closer to her, the front of his body pressed against her – the erection she first felt growing now stiffer than ever against her silk shorts.

“You feel very tight,” he whispers. “Your knots, I mean.”

Her laugh is quiet, almost as if it were just to herself. “I meant when you said not talking about things.”

“That we don’t have to talk about it for now.” She didn’t realize his hands moved from the top of her shoulders to the front of her body, a light T-Shirt being the only thing between her and a stronger sensation than Peter’s lower-than-usual voice speaking with sultry into her ear. “Can I?” 

She nods quickly as his hands dive beneath her shirt, fingers dragging along her skin before reaching for her breasts. She presses her eyes closed again, leaning her head closer to Peter’s before he starts kissing the back of her neck. 

“I feel like we should talk about it,” MJ tries, but the feel of Peter’s soft kisses distract her in a way that makes her feel safe – that they don’t have to hammer out the repercussions of these kisses until they leave the cabin. The cabin’s a bubble that takes the two of them away from their respective realities, creating their own, shared one as MJ turns around and presses her lips against Peter’s. 

He hums into her kiss before it turns deep like a promise, Peter wrapping his arms around her again to move her on top of him. MJ places her legs on either side of his waist, pressing her forehead against his before kissing him again – the same position the night before with less desperation and alcohol as if they know that after their first time, this second time won’t be the last. 

“Lay back and let me take care of you,” MJ winks, some sort of bravery building in her guts that bounce off Peter’s pleased reactions. He stretches his arms and brings it above his head. MJ shimmies down Peter’s legs, but not without grinding against his crotch – the sound of Peter’s groaning bringing more courage to MJ. 

Being in this bed with him felt like it should have been done long ago, remembering the words they uttered to each other the night before, MJ not once holding back from letting him know that it had been everything he thought it would be. She pulls his boxers off slowly knowing it’s her turn to return the slow and languid movements he teased her with.

“Please,” he whines, moving his arms to down to his side again, his muscles no longer in control as she slowly licks a stripe up his member before taking it in her mouth slowly. “God.” 

She snickers, lifting herself up and popping her mouth before speaking with a devilish grin. “I think you mean MJ.” 

“Nice,” he says before she returns to giving him head, her hands gripping his thighs as she bobs up and down his length, Peter groaning louder and louder, his curses almost incoherent. 

“You have to be quiet if you want me to keep going,” she looks up at him again, her eyes looking directly at his, Peter’s face painted with a little fear and a lot of arousal.

It makes her smirk — makes her want to see that face more often.

MJ can’t hold it anymore, getting wetter by the second at the sight of Peter getting off to her. She lifts herself up, hovering over Peter’s chest as she wraps her fingers around him, using her slickness to tease him before sinking down and filling herself up with all of him. 

“Fuck,” they say simultaneously, a reaction to the feeling that – despite this only being their second time – MJ knows it’s one that she will never get tired of. 

She bounces on him, riding him slowly as her elbows balance on the sheets. He kisses her skin all over, licking her neck as her moans turn breathless. MJ begins to lose energy but never once lets up because the sound of Peter cursing her name. 

With a sudden movement, Peter brings his hands from her ass to her waist, squeezing her skin and pumping up and down as their movements align – the shift in speed making MJ gasp. 

“No, I’m supposed to be making _you_ feel good,” she moans as she feels Peter hitting her g-spot as his thrusts feel deeper and rougher. 

“I _do_ feel good,” he breathes. Her body feels numb and sensational all at once as she moves down and he moves up and into her – the sound of their movements combined with their heightened emotions filling up the humid air of the cabin, the heater still on from the night before. 

He wraps his arms around her, stopping their actions for just enough time to turn them over so he’s on top of her. MJ would be lying to herself if she didn’t absolutely enjoy this side of Peter, the side that’s beneath the surface of all the awkwardness that she had fallen in love with.

“Wait,” she says aloud as Peter teases her vulva, ready to enter again.

“What?” he asks, “I can stop.” 

“No, sorry,” she moans, “Keep going.” 

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he winks as he thrusts inside her smoothly and quickly. “You feel so good, have I said that?”

“Just four times in the last eight hours,” she jokes, fingers brushing the skin of his sides – mind still not letting go of the thought that intrusively popped into her brain. “ _Peter.”_

“Yeah?” he moans into her neck, licking it and sucking it with wet kisses. 

She contemplates stopping – wanting the talk to happen at this moment before she becomes too afraid to speak up, but the pleasure of Peter hitting spots she never even knew existed overcame her. “This feels so good.” 

“I know,” he sighs into her mouth, peppering kisses all over her face. She keeps her eyes open, watching Peter’s face scrunch in focus and ecstasy. His eyes open, glazed with softness – a look that she’s never been given before. Immediately frightened she puts a hand on his chest before he fastens his speed. 

“Wait,” she says, still conflicted with what to do – deciding between continuing the feeling of Peter slamming into her and caressing her thighs or stopping the nerves in the pit of her stomach at the fear of commitment. 

“What’s up, Em?” he says, his hand moving to her face and pushing her hair behind her ear. Her heart melts. Her stomach drops. 

“Let me turn around for you.” 

He smirks as she goes on all fours, arching her back and digging her face into the pillows. Finally, the thrusts pick up again, MJ shutting her eyes as Peter grabs her waist and thrusts into her while he pulls her close. 

Their skin slapping becomes more intense, MJ’s muffled moans making Peter go faster until they both come, chasing each other’s orgasms until they both plop down on the bed. 

He kisses her temple as she nuzzles into his chest, refusing to look at those stupid eyes that make her feel confused and comfortable all at once. 

She loves his lips on her skin. 

He sniffs the top of her hair, humming in delight and pulling her closer. 

She loves the way he holds her, making her feel at home. 

He grabs the blankets and covers the both of them even though the room is hot as it is. 

She loves him. She has to tell him.

But the moment she’s about to speak, there’s a knock on the door. 

“Are you guys awake yet? We’re supposed to go snowboard in an hour!” Ned yells. 

Peter groans, only holding her closer. “I forgot there’s other people in this cabin.” He chuckles. “You were right about being quiet.” A beat. “But you’re always right.” 

She really loves him.


	3. chapter three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy reading!

“You two _what?!”_ Ned yelps as Peter hushes him quickly while they pull into the snowboard rental shop as MJ and Betty trail after them, Betty explaining that she had forgotten something in the car. 

“Ned, you have to be more subtle,” Peter quickly seethes through his teeth while he opens the door for the both of them. “And yes. Twice.” 

“Dude!” Ned whisper-yells, shuffling faster to the cashier – a guy close to their age, eyes glazed with boredom as he peeks below the counter, probably texting away. “This is huge!” 

Peter feels the heat rise on his face.

“So are you guys dating now?” Ned continues his quiet interrogations, peering out the glass doors to see if MJ and Betty were coming in any time soon. 

Peter doesn’t answer his question because he doesn’t _know_ the answer, their conversation went out the door the moment Ned knocked on it. He takes a deep breath and tries to replay the words they exchanged with one another in the past 12 hours, Peter only now realizing how much has happened in such a short amount of time. 

Fear creeps into his stomach, drying his throat at the weighted consequences this could sprout the moment they leave Vermont. Peter didn’t think things through when he confessed everything he felt about MJ as they made love, and it wasn’t because he didn’t truly feel these things. 

It’s because he feels it _so much_ , _too much_ that he can’t even picture a life where MJ feels the same way even if he wished on a thousand stars to know how she really felt. 

But Peter’s scared. 

MJ insisted on having that conversation, Peter deflecting from it rather than being the mature adult-child he knows he should have been. He deflected because he couldn’t stand hearing the truth from her mouth, hearing her say that what they had done should be kept in this weekend; that the cabin was just an imagined reality that they wouldn’t be able to mimic when they head back to New York City. 

He’s dreading it just as much as he dreads himself right now knowing that, for all that he wants to ask MJ to be _something,_ Peter probably ruined it by avoiding the one thing that’s important to MJ – communicating. 

He sighs. “No. And I pretty much ruined it with how much of an idiot I was being this morning.” 

“You’re always an idiot, Peter,” Ned says. 

“Dude,” Peter frowns. 

The doors of the shop ring again as the two girls walk in, arms folded and cheeks rosy from the low temperature. 

“Hey,” Peter greets MJ as if they hadn’t been in a car driving up to the slopes for thirty minutes. 

There’s a short pause, MJ standing in the doorway with an unreadable look on her face while Betty slowly walks away from her line of vision. They definitely talked about it, just as how Ned and Peter talked about it. 

Neither of them even try to hide it. 

“Did you want to rent something or what?” the cashier snapped Peter from his emotional spiral. 

“Uh, yeah, snowboards, please.” 

MJ, who appeared quickly next to Peter, interrupts him. “Actually, I’m more of a skii person, so.” 

“Really?” Peter tilts his head. She nods in response, her answer being short. “I didn’t know that.” 

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know,” she answers, beating Peter in handing the cashier her card. She smiles at the stranger as she says, “thanks.” 

“Anything for someone like you,” the guy winks, handing the ski gear over the counter. Something boils in Peter’s stomach, overtaking the previous fear that had lingered since they left the cabin. His knuckles pale in his fists.

Her long streak of silence is the only thing that soothes Peter. 

She signs the receipt, grabs her skis, and walks away.

“That's your girl?” the idiot asks.

“She’s her own girl,” Peter rolls his eyes at the cashier before grabbing his snowboard and following MJ out the door, leaving Betty and Ned behind as they grab their snowboards. “Em.” 

Her back is turned, leaning against the wooden fencing in the storefront. 

“Em, please don’t ignore me.” 

She shrugs, not turning around. “It’ll make your job easier at ignoring _me._ ”

“I’m not ignoring you!” 

“You did this morning,” she turns around, her face already painted with an expression so different from what he’s seen in the past few hours. 

“We had to get changed to go here!” 

“But you still didn’t have to be such an idiot about it,” she rolls her eyes, reminding Peter of his lack of excellent confrontation skills – embarrassment still taking over his entire body as he remembered the half hour they spent getting ready after Ned knocked on their door. 

The two of them jolted upright on the bed where their limbs were previously intertwined with one another, both were still breathless from chasing each other’s orgasms. 

“Out in a minute, MJ’s _showering_!” Peter shouted. 

“You need to shower,” she whispered. “You smell like sweat.” 

“Look, I’m just going to keep smelling like sweat after we snowboard, so I’ll shower later,” Peter explained. MJ rolled her eyes, endearing and soft. 

“Gross,” she said. Peter tried to untuck themselves from the sherpa blankets as she continued, “So… how should we go about this?”

“With Betty and Ned? I don’t think they heard us or anything,” he shrugged.

“Right,” she said, both of them crawling out of the bed. “But I mean–”

“Do you know where my socks went?”

“You only brought one pair of socks?” 

“No, but I only brought one pair of _thick_ socks,” Peter ruffled through the neatly rolled up clothes in his suitcase.

“I just fixed that.”

“Sorry, I just. Socks,” he said, refusing to look at her, seeing her sitting with her long legs criss-crossed on the bed – the same legs that were wrapped around him just moments ago, waves of flashbacks snapping into Peter’s head as he tried to find the words to say anything that wouldn’t embarrass him. 

“Right. Socks,” she deadpanned and lifted herself from the bed to change, her body still divested from the pajamas she neatly removed before riding him senselessly.

His brain was fucked.

“But I mean we should probably talk about this, right?” her voice was octaves higher, a tell that she was nervous, probably because she didn’t want to actually tell Peter that this was a stupid decision.

He pushed for a change in subject. 

“Right, well, like I said Betty and Ned didn’t hear anything.”

“Peter,” she persisted as she slipped into her snow pants. He stood up, mimicking MJ’s movements as he slipped into his own sweater. “I just… I want to tell you–” 

“You need to wear more layers,” he interrupted her. “You get cold easily.” 

He saw a smile slip from her lips when she grabbed a second sweater. 

“Look,” she called his attention, all zipped up in her white parka. 

“You look like a marshmallow.”

“Peter,” she placed a hand on his shoulder and let out an exasperated breath. “If you’re not ready to talk about it, you just say so like a real adult.”

“But–”

“All you need to do is say you don’t want this, and I’ll understand.”

“MJ–”

“So, when you’re ready to grow up and have a real conversation, then come to me. Because I’m tired of hearing you talk about winter clothes as a way to avoid talking about your feelings.”

“Wait–”

She slammed the door, Peter still not ready to leave for snowboarding. When the door swung open again and he looked up to whoever walked through hopefully, but only met eyes with Betty who didn’t have to say a single word for Peter to understand she was about to kick his ass for taking too long to get ready.

And now, as he faces MJ outside of the rental shop, snowflakes falling perfectly in her hair, Peter has nothing to say. 

He doesn’t mention the way she’s shivering despite bringing that extra sweater or the fact that his feet are already wet because he didn’t end up finding those socks he was looking for. 

He doesn’t say he’s sorry because uttering those two useless words aren’t enough for MJ, not enough for the way Peter really felt. 

He lets the silence take over the conversation, feeling its sharp intensity telling MJ more than he could ever express. 

“That’s what I thought,” she huffs. “You could have just told me you just wanted to hook up.”

“You’re not serious right?”

“I’m just as serious as you are.” 

Betty and Ned walk out the door just in time to see MJ slam the passenger door of the rental car shut. 

“I can drive,” Betty offers. 

The car ride is silent the entire fifteen minutes from the rental shop to the bunny slope. When they hop out and grab their gear, MJ heads to the ski lift on her own, not even waiting for Betty.

“She probably just wants to be alone,” Betty explains.

Peter already knows that.

Peter also knows he probably just fucked this up to no return. 

He doesn’t chase after her.

* * *

The vacation is over before it even started.

MJ sighs as she waits in line for the ski lift, feet already strapped into the skis ready to be assisted into her own singular seat, escaping from Peter _and_ Betty. 

“Hi! My name’s Helen, and I’m here to help everyone get onto the lift safely before we raise it up,” the worker does her spiel. MJ wonders how many times she’s had to say that today. 

It’s probably a hell of a lot more than the words Peter said this morning, but definitely a lot less than the bombarding advice Betty had been peppering into her ear the entire drive to the slopes. 

She had caught Betty in the kitchen packing up their lunches while Ned was nursing his hangover hunched over the restroom. MJ could hear the regret in the way Ned cursed every few times.

“I need to talk to you,” MJ said as Betty placed the last sandwich in their picnic bag. “Code red and blue.” 

“Finally!” Betty clapped. MJ frowned, and Betty tried her best to gage the emotions from her slight change of expression. “Not finally? Oh no, how could this have happened?

“He won’t talk to me.” 

“Well, it’s Peter.” 

“What?” 

Betty rolled her eyes. “Remember when he accidentally spilled coffee on your book during finals week freshman year and he wouldn’t talk to you for a week because he thought you’d excommunicate him from your life?” 

MJ remembered.

She also remembered ripping those coffee-stained pages of _The Bell Jar_ and pinning it to her dorm room, right above her bed and next to her favorite picture with her mom. 

She pinned it because she thought that’d be the last time she would interact with Peter. 

And then he talked to her a week later, apologizing about it with a new copy of the book.

“I’m not going to wait a week for him to realize what he did was wrong.” 

“I didn’t say that,” Betty said. “But if you insist,” she continues as she paces around the room. “You’ve liked him for two years, MJ. You can’t throw it all away just because he’s freaking out about it in a different way than you are.”

In hindsight, what Betty said in the kitchen that morning was true.

But MJ hates being wrong. So she isolates herself from the gang and Helen helps her on the lift and sulks in her own regret of being _too_ confrontational about the whole situation.

She also sulks in the sad idea that she probably fucked this up to no return.

She peaks over to her right, to the mountain hosting hundreds of people gliding through the fresh blanket of snow. There are little kids falling over with their parents helping them get up. She squints and sees a man help a woman get up from falling on her butt. She keeps looking until the people turn into little ants as she reaches the top of the slope.

Another worker wearing a uniform similar to Helen assists MJ in exiting the slope. 

She peeks down the hill that she’s skied through many times with her family – Vermont being their favorite holiday vacation. 

Skiing has always been a group thing. Her heart drops. 

She shouldn’t have ran away so quickly from her friends. She scoots towards the back of the slope, watching each new lift bring someone she doesn’t know.

Then finally, three familiar bodies jump off the lift, all face-first into the snow. She giggles at the way Peter’s face looks smacked with blush after plopping to the ground. It hurts how much just looking at him makes her feel better, even if she feels bad because of him. 

No matter what goes wrong in her life, Peter’s always the first person she wants to go to. Ever since that coffee stained book became a staple decoration in her first year dorm. Yet she still feels terrible because, this time, Peter didn’t just stain a book he could replace easily. And it wasn’t completely from his own doing, either. 

He waves awkwardly at her again before the three of them show up at her feet.

Betty is right. But even if she is, MJ knows that she has only pushed Peter further from her. So she nods at him, hoping he understands what she means in the look she offered for only just a moment because she doesn’t want to be unhappy anymore. 

There’s still daylight. 

There’s still this vacation. 

There’s still a share of laughter when Peter wobbles to the front of the slope. 

And maybe Peter doesn’t feel the same way, but he’s still her friend. Even if she wants to be more than that, MJ tells herself to take a deep breath and just enjoy the day without thinking about it anymore. 

She owes it to herself.

* * *

By the time Betty’s unpacking the sandwiches she made this morning, Peter notices that MJ is laughing more. At his jokes. 

Maybe things will be alright. 

He’s still thinking about the little nod she had given him after the three of them caught up to her, hoping it meant that she wasn’t upset anymore. Or at least for right now – for these few hours they spent laughing at each other struggling to race to the bottom of the slope. 

That nod, Peter hopes, meant that out of all things that have happened, both of them understand that they are friends. That they always will be friends. 

Even if they are _just_ friends, Peter will do anything to keep MJ in his life.

It’s a blessing to be in her life. 

His mood deflates as he continues to eat his sandwich, he tunes out the argument MJ and Ned are having about Jeopardy’s greatest of all time players. Plus, it’s clearly James, even if Ned and MJ keep talking about how Ken was the contestant that _actually_ won.

Peter feels a sudden agony in returning back to the cabin knowing that being away from it has pushed away the situation he and MJ gotten themselves into. What once was a room that fulfilled a fantasy Peter couldn’t have even dreamed of is now a room that reminds him of how much he’s dug a hole in their friendship. 

It’s worse than when she ignored him for a week because he spilled a coffee stain in her book. 

He realizes that maybe she didn’t ignore him the way he thought she had.

He also realizes that he’s prone to creating assumptions about how people feel about him without actually talking to them.

“You okay?” Ned nudges him, whispering quietly.

He looks at MJ, who picks off the crust of her peanut butter and jelly sandwich and smushes the bread flat. 

“I hope so,” Peter answers himself more than he answers Ned.

* * *

“I’m exhausted,” Betty whines, unstrapping the board from her feet and stretching her body before they make their way back to the rental shop. “And hungry. And ready to knock out.”

“My bones are _aching_ ,” MJ says. Peter thinks about the massage he had given her that morning. He thinks about offering, but he knows he shouldn’t. He wishes he could.

After returning his gear first, Peter offers to wait in the car so that the heater can stay warm – it had taken then a fifteen minute wait before leaving the slopes. Betty’s 2007 Ford Expedition isn’t the best in the cold, but she had been the only one with a car. 

Sitting in the quiet of the vehicle, Peter feels somewhat at peace. It’s a nice moment to breathe and take in all of the fun he had today knowing that once they get back to the cabin, they’re going to need to talk. 

He hasn’t quite rehearsed what he wants to say. But then again, Peter never practices for anything, always winging it in life. 

Once the rest of them slip into the car, Betty clears her throat and says, “So are you going to text him, then?” 

“Betty,” MJ, with the softest tone, stops her.

“Text who?” Ned asks. 

“No one–”

“The guy from the shop,” Betty interrupts MJ. Peter can feel the veins in his head trying to pop out of his skin. He clutches the wheels, not saying a word. “He was cute.”

“Babe,” Ned turns around from the passenger seat.

“Objectively!” Betty offers. Ned shrugs. “He gave you his number, so.” 

“Doesn’t mean anything,” MJ almost says through her teeth. Peter’s still quiet. 

“Doesn’t it, though? Don’t you like when people can actually tell you how they feel?” 

Peter nearly breaks the car, thigh tense on the pedal. He hears a quiet shove, and Betty stops talking. The rest of the way back to the cabin is quiet, with the low hum of the local radio station spewing the same commercial about where to find the best fishing tools in the area.

After they rush inside the cabin to rinse off their cold sweat from the mountains, Peter avoids their shared bedroom as much as possible by heading straight into the living room after his quick shower. Ned plops next to him on the couch, towel in hand. 

“Betty wants to drink wine in the hot tub.” 

“There’s a hot tub?” Peter tilts his head. On cue, Betty pops up behind him. 

“You never read my itineraries,” she scoffs.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “I didn’t pack swim shorts, though.”

MJ walks out of their bedroom, hair wrapped in a towel wearing nothing but a bikini top and bottom. Peter can feel his throat dry up. 

“I shoved one in there for you,” she states, using the towel to wring out the dampness of her curls before tying it into a huge bun resting at the top of her head. He averts his eyes from looking at her long, slender legs that shine even in the dim lighting of the dark cabin.

“You did?” 

“Yeah, when I was convincing your ass to even come.” 

“Oh,” is all he lets out.

“So get dressed, Parker,” MJ deadpans. “Or undressed, I guess.” 

She heads towards the balcony where the hot tub is set. He exchanges a cautious look with Ned then with Betty, who shrugs and follows MJ.

“I can’t tell if she’s mad,” Peter says. “Or if she just stopped caring.” 

“She has to care,” Ned says, dropping a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “It’s you, Peter.” 

* * *

“It’s nice of you to finally join us,” MJ greets Peter after ten minutes of waiting. 

“Sorry, I just–” he stops to ponder for a moment before he decides altogether to stop talking. “Sorry.” 

It’s been the twelve hours pretending not to care that she’s not angry or upset. Being anything but happy around Peter is difficult, even if the situation they’re in isn’t ideal.

“Me too,” she says. She means it, and the twinkle of hope in Peter’s eye lets her know that he understands. It’s ridiculous that – for as often as the two of them talk – they have nothing to tell each other other than the look of their eyes in synchronized apology.

It’s funny how the silence between the two of them is louder than any words that they’ve uttered.

And it’s loud enough to hush Betty and Ned, the jet of the hot tub is the only sound of conversation. Betty pours Peter a glass of red filled up to the brim. He winces, still not sure if he ever sobered up from the night before. 

“Well,” Betty starts, MJ knowing that she’s trying to find a way to get out of the awkward silence she and Peter trapped the couple in. “You finish that. I think I’m going to take a shower and…Yeah.” 

It’s uncomfortable, but at the same time, she knows Betty means well, MJ’s brutal honesty rubbing off on her best friend. She nudges Ned. 

“Yeah, I feel pruney,” he pipes up, eyes wide. “I’m going to… moisturize.” 

The two of them scramble out of the hot tub as quickly as they can, MJ holding in her deep breath of frustrations from how ridiculous the two of them were – wanting more than ever for everyone to just drop the poor attempt at subtlety and speak the truth.

She chugs her wine and stares at the half empty bottle that Betty left. 

“Are you just going to stand there or are you going to get in?” she asks. 

Peter laughs awkwardly, hand reaching the back of his neck but quickly going back to his side. She can tell he’s more self-aware than ever. 

“Do you want me to get in?” 

“Well, what I want is–”

“To talk. I know,” he starts to climb up the steps to get into the tub. “I’ve been a dumbass for the entire day.” 

“I know.” 

“I know you know, MJ.”

“I’d just like to let the record show that I know,” she smiles, finding comfort in the fact that their banter still lands in her heart softly, with caution.

He sits next to her and she can feel the thick air between them. The moonlight reflecting off Peter’s skin accentuates his muscles. 

All she wants to do is close that gap of space that she had created herself, so she can feel his lips on hers again.

It’s something she’s wanted for a long time now.

But it’s not the only thing MJ wants from Peter. Because with Peter, she wants everything.

She wants the all nighter conversations and to wake up in his arms.

She wants to know all the little things about him that make him who he is. 

She wants to laugh with him, to laugh so hard that her stomach hurts and her jaw feels sore. 

MJ wants Peter, all of Peter, all the time. 

“MJ,” he snaps her out of it, her eyes focusing on the way the jets create large bubbles in the corners of the tub. “I’m sorry.” 

His eyes glisten with a tint that, if MJ squints, she can see tears in the corners. 

“Today made me realize,” he sighs, inching closer. “When we were snowboarding and acting like normal… it was like we were friends again.” 

She tilts her head, curious and not sure where Peter’s going with this. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that,” he closes the space between them as he pauses for a beat, “I don’t want to be just friends again, MJ.”

“Oh,” she breathes, her heart racing faster as she feels the touch she’s been longing for against her wet skin. 

“And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that in the morning,” he brushes his fingertips against her chin, grazing it softly. “I was scared. I’m still scared.” 

“You have no reason to be scared, Peter.” 

“I have all the reason to be,” he stops her. “You’re my best friend, MJ.” 

At that very moment, she thinks about Liz, about every person before Liz, and about how Peter jumps quickly into wanting more from a significant other from the get go, never realizing everything he wanted has been in front of him. 

“That’s why you shouldn’t be scared, Peter,” she puts a stop to his grazing fingers with her own, intertwining them as she pushes it beneath the heated water, placing it carefully on her own thigh. “You know me.” 

She helps him move his hand up her thigh, slipping it in beneath her bikini as she says, “You get me. And I get you.” 

“Yeah,” he nudges his nose to her cheekbone, allowing MJ to take control of their movements. He takes a deep breath like he’s drinking in the moment. He smells like wine and chlorine. “You know what I like.”

“I do,” she gulps. This hadn’t been the conversation she was expecting, but at least they’re a step closer there. She wants to curse the moonlight and stars and Peter’s fingers roaming closer to where she wants him to be for not being able to focus on a resolution.

It’s the cabin, she thinks. It’s a vacation, and she doesn’t want to keep ruining their vacation. 

“Show me that you know,” he whispers. She listens, bringing his fingers to her center, making Peter palm her heat as she throws her head back. 

“Maybe you like my neck,” she releases the tension in her voice, moving her hair with her free hand to allow Peter to ravage her in the sensitive spot of her skin that he’s been playing with all weekend like it’s his new favorite place to be. 

He does so, licking and sucking her skin, MJ letting go of his hand as he takes over – rubbing her clit with the utmost grace. He brings his lips to her cheekbone, her jaw, and then her lips. 

Every time he kisses her, it feels like it’s the first time. She’s nervous, excited, and desperate for more. When she opens her eyes as they part, she notices Peter’s shifted in the pool, angled in a way where he can face her and trail his fingers down her slickness, all the way inside her. 

His fingers feel like they’re moving in slow motion, MJ realizing that each time they’ve made love to each other this weekend has become slower and deeper than the first time. What had started as Peter’s fun game of teasing has turned into him studying how her body works, listening to the way she moans louder if he curves his fingers inside her a particular way. 

She bites her lips from nearly _growling_ at the way Peter picks up the pace, pushing his digits faster and hitting the spot he found so effortlessly while he brings his lips to hers once more. Their tongues dance like it’s rehearsed, but the spark of performing it for the first time in an audience lingers in MJ’s heart. Except the only audience is the two of them. 

“What else do I love to do?” he asks her in between kisses, abruptly removing his fingers from inside her in a way that makes MJ whimper, wanting nothing more than for him to keep going. 

“Would it kill you to tell me instead of me guessing?” she hisses. He laughs at her. “Why did you stop?” 

“We’re in a hot tub, MJ.” His nose presses ever so lightly against her own. She quickly kisses his lips, a peck that makes him giggle. 

She does it again just so that giggle can echo in her head, MJ saving the way it sounds so she can play it back when she’s feeling down.

“Hey,” he looks into her eyes.

“Hi,” she feels herself grinning that stupid grin that she has around him. “You really are a tease.” 

“I thought you loved that.” 

“I do,” she kisses his nose. He scrunches it after. “But I kind of love the way you feel inside me, too.” 

Peter’s eyes widen. “Oh.” 

She wraps her arms around his neck, bringing him closer in hopes that his angle isn’t uncomfortable, but he follows suit, bringing his arms around her waist. Their kisses are endless, feeling almost automatic as she bites his lip. He groans at the sharp touch of her teeth, Peter moving his arms down her waist, squeezing her ass before he reaches her thighs. 

He pulls her thighs to wrap around him, lifting her up in one swift movement so they switch positions. With her knees placed on either side of Peter’s body on the bench of the hot tub, MJ grinds down his crotch, feeling his rock hard member stiffen even more against his board shorts. 

“I want to make you feel good but,” she sighs as she lifts herself up, her chest against Peter’s mouth as he bites the garter of her bikini. “This is hard to do in a hot tub.” 

“I told you,” he says. “Let’s get out of here.” 

“Okay,” she agrees, ready to lift herself up. But Peter doesn’t let her. He hoists her up so her legs wrap around his waist and her arms around his neck. When they lift from the tub, water spills from their rushed movements. “I don’t think Betty and Ned will appreciate it if we leave water all over the cabin to get to our room.” 

“You’re right,” Peter agrees, setting her down on the floor so they can dry off. 

MJ never noticed when the lights inside turned off, laughing at herself because she didn’t even consider the fact that maybe Ned and Betty were still in the living room. The two of them sneak through the quiet wooden floors to their bedroom. 

Their old clothes from the morning are already scattered on the floor. What’s another pile of bikinis going to do? 

The second Peter closes the door behind him, she strips herself of the last pieces of clothes blocking Peter from seeing her fully naked. When she turns around, his board shorts are dropped as well. 

They laugh. 

“Are we going to be those people who get into the bed without showering?” she lifts her eyebrows at him. She can see the lump of his throat move up and down with a gulp. She offers her hand and he takes it as she leads them to the shower. 

She can’t stop looking at him, at his member that springs up again after she winks at him. 

She lets the hot water cast down on them as she kisses him again, Peter’s lips so soft she never wants to stop. She wraps her hand around his cock and he gasps into her lips as she starts moving her hands up and down, twisting it as she does so. 

“You never finished telling me what you love,” she continues their conversation from the hot tub. 

“Right now?” he throws his head back. “This. I love this.” She slips her hand off, slowly sinking to her knees - grateful that this shower had enough space for her to do so. With no patience, she takes all of Peter inside her mouth, swirling her tongue around him. 

Her wet hair gets in the way of her, MJ using her hands in an attempt to move her trapped hair. Peter helps, using both his hands to tuck her hair behind her ear and hold it up as she continues to bob her head back and forth, hearing his curses that make her go faster, nearly feeling his head hit the back of her throat. 

She doesn’t let up, wanting to please him and show him that she’s serious about this. 

“MJ,” he chokes. She keeps going, faster and deeper, fighting her own breath. He repeats, “ _Fuck, MJ, please.”_

She brings one of her hands to her head, trying to do her best to search for his hand. She intertwines her fingers with his, and pulls her own hair. 

“You want me to,” he takes a deep breath, cursing before he continues, “to…”

She mumbles something as if he’d hear it over the mix of his own grunts of pleasure, the cascading water from the showerhead, and the ungodly sound of MJ slurping her mouth around him. But Peter does hear it, he understands what she wants because it’s _them_ and _they get each other_ , and he tugs on her hair in a way that makes her brain fuzzy. 

“If you keep going, I’m going to come before you,” he says in between breathless sighs. “And I wouldn’t love that.” 

She stops, pleased at the way Peter’s close to coming just from her mouth, her eyes glistening as she looks up at him from the shower floor. “What would you love then?”

He smiles, telling her to come back up. “Turn around.” 

She follows his directions. He presses against her back, his hands roaming her body, from her breasts to her thigh. His lips pepper kisses on the nape of her neck. Then, he brings his hands to her back and bends her over slightly. She uses her hands as leverage against the wall, curving her back in an arch. 

He teases her vulva as he always does. She bites her lip when he slides in, nice and slow, and then he fucks her fast and rough like a switch flipped inside him. Her eyes almost force itself to open with the shock of Peter thrusting into her so quickly. She doesn’t hold back her moans or the way she begs for him to go harder and faster. He complies. 

There are fireworks in her brain _already_. 

She loves him. 

She nearly screams his name as she says, “Harder.” 

His skin slaps against hers in a rhythm that she can get used to, a rhythm that’s always felt right since the night before when they first found it together. She backs up into him as he grabs her waist. 

“You want me to go faster? Harder?” he groans.

“Both,” she whimpers, shutting her eyes now from the endless pleasure Peter’s giving her, pulling her close each time he thrusts inside her, trying to get closer to her as much as possible. 

“MJ,” he speaks again as he brings his fingers to her clit, rubbing it while he continues to move in and out of wetness. “I have another thing I love.” 

“Yeah?” she whimpers. “Tell me, and I’ll do it for you.” 

“There’s nothing _you_ can do about it,” he says in between exhausted groans. 

“What is it?” the pitch of her voice changes mid-sentence when one particular thrust lets her know she’s nearly over the edge. 

“Fuck, wait,” he thrusts fasters. “I’ll tell you after.” 

“Why’d you bring it up then?” she tries to laugh, but it comes out as an aggravated noise from the way she’s so close to coming. 

“It’s just something I need to say,” he answers, rubbing her clit faster now. His words no longer make sense as she yelps in pleasure, Peter pushing her over the edge and helping ride out her orgasm. She swears she blacks out for a few seconds because the minute she opens her eyes, Peter’s coming inside her and waves of pleasure still buzz around her body when she does, MJ using that energy to back up into him as he empties out inside her.

She lets her muscles relax before standing straight again. Peter turns her around quickly and kisses her. 

“I love you,” he says. 

She blinks. “You do?” 

“Yeah,” he smiles. He kisses her nose again. “I do.”

“I love you, too,” she presses her lips against his, and with the words they just exchanged, this kiss truly feels like the one they’ve both been waiting for. There’s a long pause of silence before she snorts. “Why didn’t you just say it right away?” 

He shrugs as their chests are pressed against each other, arms entangled like their bodies are one. “I wanted to see your face.” She nuzzles into him before he keeps talking, 

“And I just wanted to hold you.” 

She shakes her head, lovingly and with a smile because – of course he does.


	4. chapter four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, there are more chapters. Yes, I am turning this into something longer than what I expected it to be. 
> 
> Enjoy!

The night before felt like a dream. 

Every caress of her face, every time he felt her fingers digging into his skin, every release of her breath onto his neck wasn’t real.

When Peter wakes up, he knows he’d be back in his bedroom in New York waking up in the middle of the night from cramming for finals. 

But as his eyes finally blink into wake and Peter takes in his surroundings, he realizes his body is still pressed against MJ’s skin, the curve of her ass softly sitting on his slowly growing erection. He does his best to back away from her, creating a space between them where he could calm down from the contact, but as soon as he pulls away her arms travel to his, pulling them around her so he can envelop her entire body.

She lets his hands roam her skin, her breaths running deeper as she wakes up and says, “Morning, you.” 

“Good morning,” he whispers into her neck before he drags his tongue to her shoulders. 

“You’re really maximizing this shared bed opportunity aren’t you, Parker?” she quips and turns to face him, lightly grazing her lips against his before pressing into him. She drapes her legs lazily on top of Peter’s hips, his skin smooth and his muscles tense.

“Can’t get enough of you,” he whispers in between kisses. For the first time all weekend, their bedroom felt chilly, but they’re warm against each other as they inch their bodies closer together. Peter brings his hand down the dip of her back, squeezing her ass for good measure, his hand traveling to her thigh to hoist her closer to him. 

His thigh presses against her warmth, the fabric of MJ’s panties already damp. She sinks into his touch.

“Take me,” she breathes. 

“Tell me what you want,” he groans, his voice still raspy from sleep. “And I’ll give it to you.”

“You know what I want, Peter.”

“I want to hear it.” 

Her groan of frustration shifted into a yelp of pleasure as one particular press against her center was longer and rougher. 

“I want you inside me.”

“MJ...” he whispers like their feelings are still being kept secret from each other – an exchange of words from the night before he couldn’t process completely. His fingers trace the garter of her underwear, slipping his fingers underneath the elastic and massaging her skin before dragging the one piece of clothing he wanted off of her the most. 

He pulls his own boxers down, getting harder by the second as he lets his hand roam toward her slickness. He slips two fingers inside her, dipping inside slowly with movements calculated by the twitch of MJ’s hips and the release of her jagged breathing. Peter catches her moans with deep kisses, finding her tongue and dancing with it while he feels her squeeze around his fingers. 

The feeling only drives him wilder, filling Peter with more desire, motivating him to slip away from inside her and grab her waist. He turns her over quickly, MJ gasping at his speed but loosening her body and allowing him to shift her upward. He grabs her leg to pull it backward and throw it over his own. 

Her angle allows Peter’s shaft to find her entrance, taking his time to tease her lips before slipping inside. He fucks her gently from behind as he holds his breath with every stroke. He can never get enough of her, each thrust a new opportunity to unlock the depths of her body and soul like connecting their bodies meant more than a moment of indescribable pleasure.

MJ turns her head over so their lips can touch, Peter chasing her kisses like it’s the last time he can have with them. He slides his hand up her body once more, bringing it to cup her face as he picks up the speed, MJ sliding her tongue all over his fingers, licking her own taste off of them. 

Peter can’t hold his breath any longer, grunting each time MJ squeezes herself around his cock, fighting the urge to come because he doesn’t want this feeling to end knowing it’s the last day they’d have at the cabin – the last day they’d be hidden away from the reality of their decisions. 

He spews curses all over her skin to fight the flood of fear that’s finding its way to his head, the same worries from their first night together coming back making him think that maybe he had been too forward in all of this and that although the feeling of it is true, maybe saying I love you to her had been too fast and that their decision to drop those three words to one another hadn’t been a resolution at all. 

“Let me ride you,” she says, snapping Peter out of his own thoughts. She slides herself off of his length before placing herself on top of him, sinking onto him without teasing, and continuing the rhythm of their bodies that they hadn’t forgotten since the first time they discovered it together. 

He looks up at her, at the way she throws her head back in ecstasy or the way her tangled hair falls messily against her nude body, the sweat on her skin making strands of hair stick to her shoulders. Peter can’t stop looking at her in the same way he can’t stop thinking about the fact that he might end up hurting her. 

He has a problem of jumping into things without thinking them through. It’s the same problem that causes others to break his heart and let him go easily. Peter’s so willing to love someone, to hit it off the bat at the first date and plan their future together. His head is constantly in the clouds, always two steps ahead but always being pushed three steps back because of rejection. 

He wonders if MJ really loves him the way she whispered it to him after they finished in the shower and again, in bed, before falling asleep. 

He wonders if – even if MJ _does_ love him – if their relationship will be the same when they head back to New York. 

What if the speed they’re taking this, though to Peter’s liking, will make everything fumble in the long run? What if this time around, being willing to love someone, will end up hurting that person in the end? What if his love isn’t good enough for her? 

He shuts his eyes, squeezing her ass and helping her finish the ride and herself. She squeals in pleasure, collapsing on top of him during her orgasm as Peter continues to move his hips, his concerns preventing him from finishing. 

Peter wraps his arms around her waist, going faster and harder into her. Her breasts hover over his lips as he attempts to lick them while never faltering from their synchronization. She switches her position, curling her body so their faces meet. 

“ _Peter,”_ she says. “Let me look at you.”

He opens his eyes to MJ as she brings her hands to his temple and brushes the loose strands of his hair away from his forehead. She opens her mouth, a scratchy moan escaping her. Her eyes roll back and she bites her lip, whimpering at his cock burying into her. When she opens her eyes again, her toothy smile pushes him over the edge – the look on her face makes Peter see stars around her as he comes inside her. 

MJ lifts herself off before he finishes completely, Peter stroking himself as he empties out. She lays next to him on the bed. “If that’s what every morning’s like with you...” 

The thing is, he doesn’t want this to be the only thing that takes up their mornings together, and even though he’s certain that she wants more, too, they still haven’t properly talked. He focuses on the rise and fall of his own chest.

When MJ gets up to use the bathroom, Peter sits up on the bed, back resting against the headboard with his eyes closed trying to imagine how their lives will be the second they get back to New York tonight. 

Will she stay with him? Will she want space after three days of him? Will they finally talk? 

She comes back and slides herself onto the bed and underneath his arms. He kisses the top of her head, contemplating whether or not he should ruin the moment by bringing up the fact that they haven’t thought about every single consequence that will spew out of them ending their friendship. He wonders if ending it will produce something smooth and easy – something that he’s hoping for – or if it was just a bad decision that he fears it is.

“You okay?” she asks, looking up at him. 

He loosens his posture and smiles at her. “Perfectly fine, Em.” 

* * *

MJ knows he isn’t. 

His hands twitch when he says _fine_ , and he usually calls her Em when he’s trying to soothe her. 

She doesn’t push it or pry for more knowing that it’d be their last day at the cabin, and although they hadn’t talked much the night before, they both came clean with their feelings for each other, and that should be enough.

Shouldn’t it?

Peter gets up to use the bathroom after her, MJ watching his back muscles curve with each step. If she weren’t so dehydrated, she’d go for another round. And another one. 

She’d never been loved like this before, never felt this much passion charged into one kiss let alone any encounter she’s ever had with another guy, her history of dating nearly nonexistent compared to Peter’s throng of relationships. 

It’s when she thinks of Peter’s past that she discovers a new insecurity crawling into her skin. What if she isn’t good enough for Peter’s love, for the love that he’s so ready to give? What if, because she’s never been in a serious relationship, he doesn’t take her as seriously as he has with the people he’s dated in the past? 

Perhaps they shouldn’t have said what they had said to each other last night. Maybe they should have talked instead, MJ dropping her face into her palms, frustrated at how difficult it is between the both of them to just lay everything out on the table. 

She sneaks out of the room before he returns to bed, hoping to God that Betty’s in the kitchen in a timely manner according to the glorified vacation itinerary she had emailed all of them earlier that week. When MJ inhales the smell of bacon and toast, she convinces herself never to doubt Betty’s punctuality ever again. 

“Rough morning?” Betty smirks as she cracks an egg into the sizzling pan.

“Shut up,” MJ grabs a piece of toast from the breakfast table nearly tired of consuming only bread for the past few days. 

“Breakfast isn’t ready yet, MJ!” Betty whines and MJ kisses her cheek as an offer of gratitude. “Don’t kiss me with your Peter-stained lips.”

“I brushed my teeth, Betty.” 

“Still,” Betty wipes the kiss away from her cheek. “So did you talk it out?” 

“Right. Define _talking_.” 

“MJ…” 

“He told me he loves me.” 

Betty drops the spatula on the ground, thankfully saving the pan from following suit. “What?”

“And I said it back?”

“Oh my God.” 

“But I wasn’t lying, Betty. I do love Peter,” MJ lowers the volume of her voice, the sizzling eggs almost masking the sound of her not-so-secret confession. “I promise.”

“I know you do, MJ,” Betty leans on the ground and grabs the spatula, dispensing of it in the kitchen sink as she asks, “But don’t you think that you should start things slower?”

“Why would we?” she plays dumb, knowing the answer already. Falling in love with your best friend is an obstacle in and of itself, and if they fall in love back, the first obstacle only opens doors to others. “We already know how each other are.”

“That’s the thing,” Betty opens the drawers searching for a new spatula. “There’s already going to be different kinds of expectations. Think about how these past few days have gone, and how you both thought you knew what each other wanted because you’re best friends and know each other?” 

MJ sighs. “Okay. I get it.”

“I’m not saying that you shouldn’t have said those words to him because everyone loves hearing that. I’m just saying,” Betty pauses and sighs, “Best friend Peter and relationship Peter are going to be different. As are you.” 

Her toast has grown stiff and cold. 

Maybe she was too caught up in the heat of the past few nights that she hadn’t been thinking clearly about this entire thing with Peter. He’s always had a way of clouding her mind from everything but him. 

It’s unfair how much space he occupies inside of her head without realizing it. 

It’s even more unfair that Betty had been defending Peter the day before, but now she’s warning MJ to proceed with caution.

“Weren’t you the one telling me yesterday that I’ve liked him long enough to wait for this?” 

Betty licks her lips, pondering. “No, I suggested you be patient. What you’re _both_ doing is not something that comes from patience.” 

Peter had called MJ his favorite person, he had confessed that he’s thought about making love to her before, and for God’s sake, told her that he loves her. 

“This whole thing isn’t going to change anything, we both agreed,” MJ says. Betty stops watching her eggs for enough time to place her hand on MJ’s shoulder and take a deep breath. 

“I can’t stop you from making your own choices.” 

“You can’t.”

“Then we’re on the same page.”

“What page?” Ned walks out in front of Peter, who looks like he’s about to pop out of his T-shirt at any moment. MJ tries her best to avert her eyes from him completely knowing that if she continued to look at him, she didn’t know what emotions could surface from her default poker face. 

“That MJ should skip out of the drive home tonight since she has a migraine,” Betty saves their conversation. “You two both like sunny-side, right?” 

Their breakfast was quiet, save for Peter scarfing down his food and hopping to the stove to make his seconds. Appetite is only a small price to pay when he has a friendly neighborhood role to take when they get back from their mini-vacation.

She finishes her meal, but observes the way Peter’s jaw flexes with every bite he takes – the way he chuckles at Ned’s recap of his triumphant win against the bunny slopes and runs his hands through his damp and undone mop of hair before washing his meal down with water. 

Although she’s been nursing her feelings for Peter for two years now, her heart has never felt so full before. Her glances at him are no longer stolen as if he’s put himself in full view – like he knows that she’s staring. Instead, they sneak looks at each other like they’re keeping it a secret despite MJ having informed Betty after the first time and assuming Peter had done the same with Ned. 

It’s an odd feeling knowing that their two closest friends are completely aware of what’s happening, only hitting MJ now that Ned and Betty have probably talked about in the privacy of their own room and noting to herself that she needs to establish a rule with Peter that they should no longer discuss anything with their best friends until everything is completely situated. 

She doesn’t know when that will be, but she hopes that it’s soon – her impatience wears thin with not just Peter, but herself, for not clearing the air after the first time that they slept together. The past few nights and mornings had been a reality that MJ only ever daydreamed about, her fear is that this experience stands alone, that the words and kisses and moans they exchanged were only produced in the heat of the moment. 

Packing her suitcase after their breakfast felt like an earnest goodbye to the world she found herself in when they stepped foot into the Airbnb, back when Betty first revealed that there had only been one bed per room and MJ had insisted on sharing a room with Peter. 

It was a big risk to take, and MJ took it fully aware of her own, seemingly unrequited feelings about Peter. One result she never considered was the possibility of Peter having feelings about her. Now that it’s all out in the open, their relationship can be taken in any direction and – although they had both reaffirmed that what happened doesn’t change anything – there’s a lingering fear dancing in the back of MJ’s mind that things are going to be a lot more complicated than they both assume.

She throws the rest of her unused clothes in her suitcase, not even folding her clothes neatly given her any clarity from the warning that Betty gave her earlier. 

The door creaks open, and Peter immediately speaks up. “Em, what’s wrong? Your jeans aren’t rolled up in your luggage.”

It’s like anything Peter says about her reaffirms just how much she’s fallen for him. 

She drops her clothes altogether, locking her bags and turning to Peter, whose face is painted with shock at the idea of MJ not maximizing her suitcase space. “Can I be honest?”

Peter strides over to her, sitting crisscrossed in front of her. “You’re always honest.”

“I haven’t been lately.”

“Oh,” he says, shoulders deflating. “Look, if you don’t want this–”

MJ blinks before interrupting him. “That’s what you think?”

“It’s what I’m afraid of.” 

“I’m scared, too, Peter,” she looks into his eyes, a little too self-aware about how vulnerable she must look right now. “I just don’t want things to change between us.” 

“Me neither,” he pulls the corner of his lips, looking at her with honesty. It’s raw and open, this conversation being the first to address the unspoken fears they both had. She doesn’t ask if he didn’t mean what he said the night before, MJ being too afraid of hearing his real answer and accepting the uncertainty as the truth. 

“So,” she sighs. Peter puts his hand on top of hers to stop it from shaking. 

“So,” he repeats. A wave of silence crashes between them until there’s rapid knocking on the door. 

“Check out in an hour, and the balcony is still a mess!” Betty shouts through the door, both Peter and MJ giggling at what they had committed on the balcony. 

“We should probably go clean up our mess,” Peter nearly winks, patting her hands that she hadn’t realized stopped shaking the moment he held them. 

She bites the inside of her cheek. “When will we ever get to talk about this?” 

“We will, Em,” he lets go of her hand and brushes her cheek, tucking her hair behind her ear before lifting her chin. “What are you doing tonight?” 

“No plans,” she says.

“Well, now you do. I’m going on patrol the second we get back, but only for a couple of hours. Come over after, and we can talk. About everything.” 

“Okay.” 

The knocking continues. This time, Ned speaks through the door. “You guys better hurry up and clean before the vein in Betty’s forehead explodes.”

“ _Babe._ ”

“How do you hear everything?!” his muffled voice fades away. 

“America’s favorite couple,” MJ snorts. 

“Let’s go help,” Peter kisses her forehead gently before lifting himself off the ground. The touch of his lips lingers on her skin, seeping into her emotions like a comforting blanket. She watches him walk out the door, throwing a joke and Ned and Betty that only he laughs at. 

It makes her giggle a little bit, too. 

But knowing that all of her hidden feelings about Peter will finally reveal itself after tonight, it’s nice to have one secret to herself for now. 

As promised, MJ didn’t have to drive on the way home, settling herself into the back seat and tucking her head into a pillow she wedged by the window. The space is cramped with their suitcases, Betty squeezing in the middle seat as Peter and Ned take over the front. 

She forces herself to sleep in her best attempt to avoid overthinking and save it for when she returns to her own apartment knowing that if she tries to figure out what to say now, the entire car might see tears fall down her face from frustration. MJ slips into deep sleep quicker than she realized, her body finally catching up with her from the lack of rest she had gotten from a fully-packed weekend. 

When she wakes up, she catches a whiff of fruity shampoo and laundry detergent under her nose and a head shifting out of view. They had reached the halfway mark without waking her up, Peter lifting his head to look at her as he rubs his eyes and his smile as soft as how MJ’s heart feels seeing it. 

She blinks a few times, wondering if this is real or she’s still dreaming. 

Peter retreats back into the crook of her neck, falling asleep as quickly as her movements woke him up. She looks out through the driver’s window, the evening sky already fully bloomed as if the day is already over despite only being half-past five. 

Winter has a way of making everything feel fleeting. 

MJ’s thoughts betray her as her mind starts to drift into the thousands of potential situations she can find herself in after their conversation that night. 

Her stomach feels sick when she realizes she hasn’t thought of one good ending to this, hoping that her paranoia and Betty’s words were playing mind tricks on her. She shakes away the thoughts over and over again until Ned reaches her apartment and drops her off. 

MJ insists on carrying her luggage on her own, ready to have these few hours of alone time to mentally prepare for going to Peter’s later that night. 

She doesn’t unpack right away like she usually does, opting to take a shower and lay in bed for a few hours praying for an _aha!_ moment that would inform her how to approach talking about her feelings with someone who wears his heart on his sleeve, despite not knowing how to vocalize anything. 

There’s no luck, that gut feeling of inevitable heartache only growing bigger and bigger as it comes closer to the time Peter had given her to meet him at his place. She closes her eyes, replaying how optimistic Peter seemed to be before they left the cabin.

She trusts Peter – she knows that they’ll work things out and her anxiety is the only barrier that gets in the way of what she wants. MJ wants to imagine Peter doesn’t mind that she’s never been in a serious relationship, wants to imagine that even after observing Peter’s innate desire of moving quickly in relationships, he’d be okay with taking things slow. 

MJ looks out of the window of her bedroom, wondering where Peter’s swinging around the city tonight – wondering what he’s thinking about and if he’s thinking about her, all of her thoughts cramming into her head all at once, reminding herself to trust Peter and trust that all the fear she has about them is all in her head. 

But, even if it’s all in her head, MJ soon realizes that she should never betray her own gut. 

* * *

Peter stays perched on the edge of a building, peering over New York City’s residents in search of petty crime or maybe something bigger. He missed this feeling – the wind sweeping against his limbs and the feeling of being unknown, hidden under the mask that’s become a beacon of safety for the little guy. 

Being Spider-Man is a feeling he never gets tired of knowing that it’s a way to escape from all the day to day complications _Peter Parker_ has. He sighs as he watches lights flickering from thousands of windows turning in for the night, a bit relieved that there hadn’t been any too serious that would delay his conversation with MJ. 

He hadn’t gotten his mind off of it for as much as he webbed his way along the New York City skyline still feeling uneasy from the disheveled way MJ packed up her clothes and the way she had mentioned not wanting anything to change between the two of them. 

It’s no secret Peter jumps into things without fully fleshing out his own thoughts, but loving MJ is something he’s never been more sure of. Although, now, as times inches closer and closer to meeting her at his apartment, his own brain has rudely convinced himself that MJ had only said it because of pressure. 

Peter hopes the way they stumbled into the mess of coming together doesn’t pull them apart. 

He knows it won’t – he trusts her, trusts them.

But what he doesn’t consider are any outside factors, Peter and MJ having spent the last few days in their own bubble that not even Betty and Ned could take them out of despite being there. And when he turns in the suit for the night, awaiting MJ’s arrival at his own apartment as he paces back and forth, he hears rapid knocking on the door.

Peter braces himself, realizing that he should have thought his words through more carefully knowing that MJ has probably jotted down all of her feelings in an organized fashion. One more deep breath and he swings the door open, ready to hammer out the details of what his and MJ’s next steps will be – only to meet the eyes of someone who’s swimming in sorrow. 

* * *

It doesn’t take long for MJ to get to Peter’s apartment after he sends her a quick text that he’s swinging home. She enjoys the walk over, their places being just a few blocks away from one another making it easy to take turns in being hosts for study sessions and game nights. Peter had also mentioned that Ned was going to sleep at Betty’s for the night – giving them the entire apartment too themselves. 

MJ didn’t want to get ahead of herself, bringing only a small bag with her phone, keys, wallet, and a notebook of the main ideas she brainstormed for the conversation knowing that if she didn’t take the time to jot any of her feelings down, their night would end up like the last few which isn’t something that they should jump into. 

She climbs the worn-down flights of stairs to Peter’s apartment, a journey that she’s familiarized herself with yet this time around, everything feels so different knowing that she might either walk out of the apartment after hours of back and forth having lost her best friend or spend the night for the first time, as someone more than Peter’s best friend. 

When MJ knocks on the door, she doesn’t consider the other, secret option in front of her that she doesn’t want to choose nor believe is the reality of what it’s like to come back to New York City. And as it swings open, she’s given a hot reminder of why Peter had been reluctant to even go to the cabin – MJ’s successful attempt at convincing him to go on the vacation being only a mere four days ago.

“Oh, hey Michelle.” 

She lifts her eyes from the ground and sees her, dressed in sweats and wrapped in one of Peter’s favorite flannels. MJ swallows the thick lump in her throat and a warm sheet of embarrassment washes over her cheeks. She stuffs her hands in her pockets as she says,

“Hi, Liz.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated. 
> 
> Follow me on twitter @spideysmjs & I recently just started tumblr again @briens. 
> 
> <3


	5. chapter five

MJ’s chin slips out of her hand, loud snore waking her up in the middle of her lecture hall. Her eyes go wide, shifting quickly to Professor Jackson, who – to MJ’s luck – doesn’t stop rambling on about the research paper due before spring break.

The guy to her left snorts, MJ sending daggers his way before straightening her back and trying to focus in on the directions projected on the screen. 

She hasn’t slept well the past two nights, mind still running through what had happened the night Liz Allan opened Peter’s apartment door. The night was hard to shake off, all of the options that boiled into the pot not melting into a final resolution, both of them deciding to let the idea rest and allow space to fall in between them.

MJ still feels the way her heart initially dropped the moment she laid eyes on Liz, dressed in Peter’s clothes, greeting MJ at the door with a soft smile as if the weekend never happened.

In that moment, MJ felt defeated.

And then angry. 

Angry at herself for slipping into a black hole of comparing herself to someone else, angry that she couldn’t stop blaming herself for ever thinking the words she and Peter shared with one another were real, angry that she felt physically incapable of moving from the doorway.

“Did you need something?” Liz asked, arms crossed and leaning against the hinge. 

“No, I just–” 

Her mind went blank, like a lightbulb pushing one last flickering before going out, washing the room with darkness.

“MJ,” Peter said, walking out of his little hallway, eyes wide. “Liz just got here.” 

“Yeah, I needed to talk to Peter about something,” Liz said. The more MJ analyzed her face, the more she noticed the circles beneath her eyes with a pink tinge of exhaustion. She looked lost like she had an insurmountable amount of things to say. 

MJ nodded, gripping the straps of her backpack. “Right.” 

Peter stalked forward, his hand finding its familiar home at the back of his neck. “MJ and I have a GE class together, so we were going to study for the midterm.”

The casual ease at which Peter spewed out a white lie was unsettling. 

“I’m sorry,” Liz backs away from the doorframe. “I didn’t know you had plans.”

“You didn’t really ask me,” Peter said, MJ refraining from a smirk despite the wrong feelings of jealousy bubbling in her stomach. She did her best to not be jealous, aware of the nasty consequences that fall from that emotion, knowing that if she ever acted on those feelings, MJ would be disappointed in herself.

“We can study a different time, Parker,” she offered, feet still planted firmly on the shotty hallway carpet. “It’s not that important.”

“MJ,” his voice came close to a whisper. “Can I talk to you for a second?” 

She deadpanned, waiting for Peter to speak as Liz inched backward as she said, “I’ll just use the bathroom.”

“You’re gonna leave?” Peter’s voice cracked the same way MJ’s heart did. 

She wanted to stay, her voice softening as she said, “There’s no point in me staying here, Peter.”

“I’m not going to get back with her, MJ.”

“I know, but–”

“But nothing.”

“Can you let me talk?” MJ sighed, her frustration growing exponentially with Peter for dancing around the point and with herself for not knowing what her point even was – only knowing that she couldn’t bear to sit in his apartment, waiting for him to finish a conversation with Peter’s ex-whatever-Liz-was-to-him. “I just… I’m tired. And we have tomorrow off, and I’d rather sleep early tonight.”

She waited for his response, a part of her hoping he’d urge forward and convince her to stay. Her desire of feeling wanted hitting her chest at full force as it had been the entire day, waiting for Peter to finish his Spider-Man patrol to finally have the conversation he promised they’d have. 

But all he did was nod, tucking his lips inward as he said, “I get it.”

Then something within her snapped and, despite knowing that Peter had offered to talk afterward and knowing that she had been the one to suggest leaving, MJ kept talking out of her own ass as she suggested, “Maybe we just need some space.”

Peter blinked. “Oh.”

She kept going. She didn’t know why, but she did. “I think maybe spending an entire weekend locked in a room together made us say things we didn’t even mean.”

“Okay,” his voice cracked.

“Okay,” MJ ran her hands through her hair, wishing it had been Peter’s, wishing they had been in his bed, and that nothing was complicated. Yet she can’t help but feel like she made the right decision – that MJ learned the risks of getting into bed with her best friend outweighed the slight chance of finally being loved by him.

Her legs began to move, backing into the hallway realizing she never even stepped foot inside his house, accepting the fact that she’d always be standing in his doorway.

“Hey,” her annoying lecture hall neighbor pokes her shoulder and startles her, “Wake up.”

MJ flinches, her nose wrinkling at his awkward touch. “I’m good.”

“You sure?” he whispers. “I’m sure. And maybe you should learn how to mind your own business.”

The professor has somehow transitioned from discussing their research paper to a full-blown lecture on Omi and Winant’s racial formation theory. _Jesus,_ how much time has passed?

“Sorry,” the guy shifts in his seat, MJ wondering why the hell he decided to sit right next to her when there aren't even enough people to fill up the entire row they’re in. “It’s just that you’ve been staring at a blank Google Doc for 45 minutes now, and I was worried.”

“I’m _good_.” 

He backs off, switching his focus from MJ back to his own laptop screen. From her peripherals, she glances at his white quarter zip and ESU Grandpa Cap, MJ stifling a laugh considering she’d just publicly shunned him. A part of her is kind of guilty because he was just being considerate. But she’s gotten only six hours of sleep in the past two days, the most nutritious meal she’s had is one banana, and she can’t stop checking her phone every thirty minutes for a message that will never come. 

Being blunt to a random stranger isn’t on the top of her priority list of things to worry about.

When Professor Jackson dismisses the lecture hall, MJ shoves everything in her worn-out backpack that she’s had since senior year of high school. She can hear the ruffle of papers jamming at the bottom, not even bothering to fix it. Grandpa Cap Guy exits toward the other side of the row, and she actively avoids walking in the same direction as him, embarrassed to start a conversation, or try to apologize for being short. She’ll just have to find a different seat in the lecture hall on Friday. 

When her phone vibrates, her body freezes. 

“Hello?” she answers quickly, cheeks flushed with embarrassment for how desperate she might sound – not even looking at the Caller ID to realize it’s not the person she’s been waiting for. 

“Hey, MJ,” Ned says, chirpy and ecstatic. “Betty and I are on the way to the cafe. You busy before your next lecture?”

MJ swallows, then yawns. “I was going to skip my next lecture.”

“Are you okay?” he asks. 

She drags her feet along the concrete of their campus, a heavy press against her shoulders pushing her down as if gravity became her enemy. MJ ignores Ned and asks, “Is Peter going?”

There’s a beat of silence, a muffled sound of what MJ makes out to be the welcoming bells jingling at their favorite coffee shop. “He didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“He’s been staying at the compound the past two nights. Tony had him test out new tech and report back to him after patrols and planning their new mission.”

Peter didn’t tell Ned what happened. He’s also lying to him, MJ knowing that if he’s spending time at the compound – spending time as _Spider-Man_ – it’s because he’d rather not be Peter Parker right now. “Oh, right. That. Sorry, I haven’t slept in, like, two days. I have a research project due soon.”

“Next time then,” Ned says. “Get some sleep, dude.”

“Yeah,” she sighs, watching bikers weave their way through slow-paced pedestrians reluctantly succumbing to the conversations of desperate students tabling their organizations. She hangs up, using her muscle memory to lead her back to her studio apartment, praising the fact that she opted out of searching for a roommate. 

No one needs to see MJ at her most desperate hour when the winter sun sets, ready to welcome in the dreary moonlight and MJ’s overwhelming self-dread. 

She doesn’t let anyone pull her into this black hole, but it’s _Peter_.

He’s her favorite person, the person she wants to run to when she feels this way, and it’s the most painful feeling in the world knowing that she can’t.

The sun is already setting by 4pm as MJ climbs up the stairs, the dull ache of restlessness pinching at her spine as she finds herself unlocking her front door. Immediately, she finds herself crawling into her queen-sized bed, trying to remember how easily she slept alone before experiencing what it felt like to sleep next to Peter. 

Her hands reach her phone once, twice, three times for good measure – making sure there hasn’t been any phone call or text message she’s missed despite her phone being on loud since she left lecture. MJ sighs, silencing the ringer and tossing her phone to the floor as her eyes grow heavier and heavier. The lack of rest consumes her body slowly, her eyes weighing down on her and her mind tuning out the sound of subtle vibrations coming from the call she had been waiting for.

* * *

“Pete, why are you still here?” Tony asks as he walks into the lounge of the compound, Peter feeling caught that he hasn’t slipped out of his pajamas in two days. “Don’t you have classes?”

“It was a three day weekend.”

Tony adjusts his wrists to look at his watch. “Not to burst your bubble, but it’s officially 23 minutes into Wednesday.”

Peter groans, burying himself deeper into the leather sectional. “Don’t you have another suit design for me to work on?”

“Aside from the three that I’ve already brainstormed with you?”

“Okay, I get it. But if the first three suits drop me from the sky while I’m swinging around, my blood is in your hands, Tony.”

Tony’s eyes widen in bemusement. “When did you become such a drama queen?” 

“I learned from the best mentor I guess.”

“Hey.”

Peter lifts himself from the couch. “I just.. I just want to get ahead on things.” 

The shake in his voice immediately calls Tony to sit next to him, taking a deep breath before he asks, “What’s on your mind, kid?”

There’s no getting away from the conversation now. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You’re talking to the guy who made 40 suits to avoid talking about his _feelings_. I know when something’s up.”

Peter doesn’t usually dive into his romantic life with Tony, usually reserving those conversations for May during their weekly dinners, but he knew his actions haven’t been the best and May would slap him sideways if he told her how much of an idiot he was being – especially to MJ. The two have a book club. 

“I think I messed up with MJ,” Peter says. 

“I remember MJ,” Tony says. “Funny kid.”

“She is. And she just knows so much about me, and she’s always there for me. She knows my secret, and she keeps it a secret, and she listens to me. MJ’s just amazing, Mr. Stark. She’s my favorite person.”

“Does MJ know that?”

“I did. I told her. And I tried calling her earlier but she didn’t answer. And… I thought things would be different after this weekend, but it’s still hard for us to just… be.”

“Together?”

“Yeah, maybe. I don’t know,” Peter groans, thinking about each little complication that has pushed them further away from each other within the past few days. “I don’t know if she wants to be together. She’s never been in a relationship before, and I don’t want to scare her because I’m too forward with what I want.”

Peter looks at Tony, whose eyes are swimming with curiosity, trying to decode the vague explanations he’s lazily giving him. “You’re overthinking it, kid.”

He blinks, silent, and waiting for more clarity.

“Pete,” Tony places his hand on Peter’s shoulder, patting it with a sincere look of sorrow. “If you want to be with her, tell her.”

“I know, but it’s never the right time.”

“It’s never going to be the right time if you don’t do it,” Tony pats his thighs and stands up, bringing his watch to view before saying, “I’m kicking you out now. I’m taking you home. Rest. These suits and blueprints aren’t everything.”

Peter nods, the echo of Tony’s advice etched in his brain as he makes his way to the driveway, hopping in the passenger seat of a very silent drive – upstate New York always dressed with calmness so eerie, the streets whisper Peter’s own thoughts to himself. 

He thinks about Liz and how she showed up at his apartment, offering to try dating again – wearing the clothes he left at her place the night he’d made a mistake by asking what they were and what they will be in a few months. 

“Liz?” his eyes widened at the sight of her like he’d seen a ghost of his past – his past feeling like a lifetime ago instead of two weeks. “Is everything okay?”

“Hey,” she whispered, a mumble so quiet and soft like a secret. “Can we talk?”

He wanted to say no. Peter wanted to tell her it was the wrong time, that he was expecting someone to come soon, but he also desired answers. Closure. A reason why she was so quick to break it off when the future was mentioned. A reason that could help him know what was wrong with him, so he could be better. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I was finally trying to gather the things you left in my apartment. Like balled up socks, and then I saw this flannel,” she pinched the color of his shirt. “And I don’t know. I got to thinking and…”

Liz waded into the apartment, her footsteps moving in familiar motions, the memories of their short time together making Peter’s brain go fuzzy as he realized that he never took the time to really get over her. He closed the front door before following her lead to the couch, Liz already tucked by the armchair, posture straight and feet planted on the floor. 

“You’re still using the same shampoo,” she commented. 

“I haven’t run out of the bottle,” he responded, hand running through the strands of his wet hair. 

She bit her lip. “Well, I just… What if we made a mistake?”

 _We._ Peter wanted to scoff, and the heart he constantly dons on his sleeve made his disdain of her word choice apparent to Liz.

“I made a mistake, Peter,” she tugged the flannel closer to her. “I realize that, even if the future scares me… you don’t.”

His brain was malfunctioning, a feeling of validation knocking on the door, but the uneasiness of insecurity refusing to open it. 

“I can get that,” Liz said, already getting up to reach the front of the door, Peter panicking with no words able to escape his mouth until he heard Liz greet, “Oh, hey MJ.”

The rest of the evening was a mess, seeing the look on MJ’s face as he raced to the door and watching her walk away from his apartment after telling him she needed space even though they were _so close_ to figuring it out. Space. Letting her walk away. Not talking to her even though it’s the one thing he did without fail every day. It wasn’t an option that Peter thought he could ever do, but if it was what MJ wanted, he could do it for her. 

When Liz called him back inside, he was ready to tell her how she felt because if he didn’t say it now, he’d pull himself into another situation that he wouldn’t be able to solve. “I’m sorry, Liz, but I don’t think we can try again.”

“Oh,” she said. He couldn’t get his eyes off the door. “ _Oh_.”

“It’s just that when I date someone,” he puffed his chest, using the bravery high he was still riding from a patrol that night, “I don’t want them to take two weeks to really figure out how they feel.”

“I understand,” Liz blinked – something in her eyes letting Peter know that she understood that it wasn’t just about them. She got up, shimmying out of the flannel and letting him know she’d return the rest of his socks and sweats on a different day. “I figured.”

“Thanks,” he let out, the two making their way to the damn door that Peter had been opening and closing as frequently as his indecisiveness. 

“And hey?” she called out, smiling. Peter nodded, waiting for her response. “Maybe take your own advice and don’t wait two weeks.”

He smiled softly. Liz never failed to read him. “I won’t.”

“Bye, Pete,” she closed the door softly behind him.

“Bye Pete,” Tony says. 

“What?” Peter blinks himself back to their car ride from the compound. The passenger door opens on its own. “Oh, shit.”

“Home sweet home.”

“Sorry,” Peter shakes his head. “For not talking on the car ride, I just…”

“No worries, kid. I know heartache when I see it,” Tony starts his engine as quickly as he stopped it. “Talk to her.”

Peter nods, waving his mentor goodbye and seeing the car blast back into the New York City streets. He peeps at his phone, hoping for any missed messages or returned phone calls. 

It’s a little over one in the morning, and his phone is quiet – not even crime alerts could save Peter from the spiral of fear that he’s ruined his friendship with MJ. He didn’t even know what he was expecting to hear from her, when she’d clearly voiced her stance in the whole situation. That they needed space. That they said things that they didn’t mean. 

And maybe she’s right. 

She always is.

* * *

**SPIDEY GANG**

nedward: i know we just spent a weekend hanging out but i miss hanging out

nedward: so let’s hang out

bets: i’m doing a hard stop on studying this weekend. i need to relax

bets: board game night

petey parker<33333: you’re never relaxed at board game night betty

bets: shut up

petey parker<33333: you’re like the most competitive person here

nedward: i’m down for board game night at our place on friday 

bets: see y’all there 

MJ reminds herself to change Peter’s contact name from the one he edited from winning a bet at who could win a no items round of Smash as each other’s mains. MJ had no chance playing as Peter’s basic main, Ness, so she lost. Thus the nickname. Then she reminds herself that she’d requested space from Peter, and he agreed with her. 

She does miss Ned and Betty, though. The past few days she’s spent in isolation reminds MJ of her loneliest days in high school, when she never felt comfortable with making friends. Hell, she barely knows how to make one now. She’d gotten lucky with those two for being patient with her, and with Peter for being so easy to talk to. 

bets: everything okay with you?

mj: why wouldn’t it be?

bets: idk the other chat you didn’t respond

bets: i miss you :(

mj: i miss you too betty

mj: i’ll be there this weekend

bets: YAY <3 love u 

mj: love you too 

She tucks her phone in her bag, swearing to concentrate _this time_ to actually pay attention to Professor Jackson’s lectures despite the fact that she’d read ahead already. MJ’s well-rested now, and spent the entire day before in the library catching up with what her brain wouldn’t allow her to listen to on the first class back from the cabin trip. 

The lecture hall was less dense than earlier in the weekend, students already clocking out for the weekend, opting to ditch their Friday class. MJ tucks herself snugly in her usual seat, grabbing a notebook and pencil out for notes instead of her laptop, hoping she wouldn’t be tempted to start drawing her classmates in crisis. Ten minutes into the lecture, and someone silently comes to the door looking breathless and familiar to MJ.

Grandpa Hat Guy. 

She laughs at his tardiness and the way rushes into the row. Only then did MJ remember she had told herself she would sit away from him to avoid their awkward encounter. It’s too late now. MJ has to face her consequences for being an idiot at some point.

He smiles at her bashfully, and MJ rolls her eyes. He whispers, “actually paying attention this time?”

“At least I don’t barge in 15 minutes late,” she quips, keeping him at her peripherals. His eyes were soft and friendly, and he’s not wearing the grandpa cap from before. 

“ _10_ minutes,” he corrects her. “Stop talking to me and pay attention to the professor.”

MJ shakes her head, holding back a smile from the feeling the lightest she’s felt all week. 

As promised, she jots down all the notes from Professor Jackson and focuses the entire time. When it’s ready to leave, MJ mentally prepares herself for going to Peter’s later. Before she takes a left, she hears a voice call after her.

“Hey,” the same, familiar voice caused MJ to turn immediately. She smiles at him.

“Grandpa Hat Guy,” she slips, immediately catching her blunder. 

“What?”

She panics. “Oh, nothing. You were just wearing one earlier this week. That’s how I remember you.”

“You remember me?” he teases. Her emotion stands still as he holds out his arm, “I remember you too. I’m Jay.”

“Michelle,” she shakes his hand. 

“Glad you paid attention in class today,” he says. “I was worried I’d have to help you study.”

MJ squints. “Would that be a bad thing?” 

“No,” he stutters. “I just–”

She laughs. He rolls his eyes. “Are you busy tonight?”

Her stomach drops as she sighs. “I am.”

“Oh,” Jay says. “I’ll catch you some other time then?”

He’s hopeful, and MJ feels a pang of sudden guilt ripping at her slowly like a timebomb. “I’ll see you in lecture, Jay.”

MJ walks away without question knowing that if she’d try with Jay, she’d be trying for the wrong reasons knowing she could never feel the same way about anyone anymore, aside from Peter. She lets the walk back to her apartment calm her down, the cloudy skies of the streets only calmed down by the number of bodies commuting home. There’s a slight breeze that helps the fresh air flow as it carries the different aromas from the street of restaurants MJ passes by on her way home. 

She’s tempted to order something to go, remembering she hadn’t eaten since noon, but rushes herself home knowing she’s almost late to Peter’s and Ned’s – not wanting to ruin her internal plan she had mapped out when she accepted the invitation because anything out of her pre-thought out method of preparation would put MJ in shock mode. She changes out of her ESU hoodie and sprinkles a bit of blush on her face and gloss on her lips. She pulls her hair out, running her fingers through it to get the creases out from her hair tie.

MJ watches herself in the mirror, staring at the way her strands of hair slip at the front of her face, or how her blush glows even under the dim lighting of her studio apartment. She sighs as she heads out the door. 

When she arrives, Betty opens the door and pulls her in close, whispering about how she’d missed her and how Peter’s been quiet all week. MJ ignores her and shrugs, not wanting to mention anything about Peter knowing she hadn’t said much about him. And with MJ’s luck, Peter returns the attitude, walking into the living room offering one, quietly telling wave hello. 

It’s going to be a long night. 

* * *

“I’m tired of Betty winning all the time,” Peter whines. Ned can’t stop laughing as he walks to the fridge and Betty’s mini-dancing in celebration for having won Mario Kart for the third time. “I don’t want to play anymore.”

“Sore loser,” she laughs. MJ hums in agreement. “But I _am_ getting tired of winning.”

“Whatever, Betty. Let’s just play a different game. Or watch something.”

Ned walks back from the fridge with four bottles of Lagunitas tucked in his arms. “What are we watching?”

“Something hilarious,” MJ says as all eyes turn on her. They opt for a comedy show, leaving it in the background as they make their way through the beer. She can hardly focus knowing Peter had chosen to sit next to her, on the other end of the couch. He’s never felt so far away from her than he did now. She readjusts her legs from being tucked under her to laying them out, hoping for something. A graze of the leg. A moment of connection. A sign that lets MJ know what they had didn’t expire after the weekend.

Sometime during John Mulaney’s bit about driving through McDonald’s with his father, MJ fell asleep. She only opens her eyes to the bright TV screen asking, “Are you still watching?”

When she blinks herself awake, she feels nothing but an empty couch at her feet. Her heart’s about to shatter before the bathroom door opens, Peter rubbing his eyes and scratching his bed head. He sees MJ awake and smiles. “Hi.”

“Hey,” she says. “Did you just wake up?”

“Yeah, about ten minutes ago,” Peter comes closer, MJ raising her legs so he can tuck himself in between the couch and her body. He rests his arms on her shins, hand-pressed lightly on her skin. “You need to crash?”

“It’s late,” is all MJ can say. Peter nods. He brings his hands to her feet, kneading them over her socks. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all, you do it all the time,” he answers. MJ lifts herself, her legs still draped over Peter’s thigh, her body moving closer to him. She puts her arm around his neck and he immediately wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her in. 

She can feel his breath on her shoulder from the way he tucks his face down. His touch sends shivers down her spine. They shouldn’t be this close, but MJ doesn’t move and neither does he. “I’ve missed you,” he confesses. 

MJ doesn’t hold herself back. “I missed you too. I still do.”

“Me too,” he pulls her into a full embrace, one that turns her to shift her position, MJ’s legs widening to straddle his lap placing both on either side of him. “This feels nice.”

His words send deep exhales against her chest. She feels a warm sensation travel throughout her body, and her core desiring a coarser touch. MJ starts swaying her hips and Peter groans, hands traveling from her upper back down to her ass, assisting her on grinding against his bulge already longing for more friction. MJ’s mind races, all possible consequences flashing in her face that she does her best to ignore having missed Peter’s lips on her.

He nibbles at her neck, soft and intense. She instantly pulls her shirt off, revealing her bare breasts. Peter exchanges a glance with her, and she nods before he starts tonguing at her nipple. His mouth feels wet on her breast, but she presses closer to him, the touch of his hard member dampening her entrance. Ther kisses have been quiet of conversation, but loud with the gasps of breath begging each other for more. 

“Peter,” she says into his lips as they press against each other. She made her way on top of him his back pressed onto the couch and his shirt made its way to the floor. “I want you inside me.”

He curses and groans, his own hands running through his hair as MJ grinds against him, her leggings had been disposed of almost right after Peter’s shirt. He sighs. “MJ, please.”

“Please what?”

“Let me be inside you.”

“You have to watch me first,” she lifts herself from his lap, kneeling on the floor next to the couch. Her hands make her way to his belt, unclasping it and slowly pulling it off. He lifted himself slightly for the belt to be completely gone. MJ stares into Peter’s eyes and smirks as she drops the belt onto the floor. When she unzips his pants and pulls them down, MJ watches Peter close his eyes in pleasure the moment she palms his cock through his boxers.

When she pulls his pants and boxers off completely, she finds her way to his member, pumping her hands slowly. She brings her free hands inside her panties and to her center, using her two fingers to rub through her own slickness. “MJ, please.”

She’s never heard the sound of someone expressing complete desire until she heard it from Peter’s throat. It pushes her off the ground. Peter strokes himself as he watches MJ finally free herself from her underwear. 

“You look beautiful,” Peter says. She smiles, her stomach fluttering with nerves. She watches Peter take a deep breath before he asks, “Do you want to go to my bed?”

MJ stares at him longer. He smiles, a shy and quiet thing. “Yes. I do.”

He removes himself from the couch, his soft eyes turn into determination as he picks MJ up, wrapping her legs around his body. She’s caught by surprise but immediately sinks into his arms. He does his best to keep his lips pressed against her body as he makes their way into his room. 

Peter lays MJ down gently on his bed. “I wish you knew how you made me feel.”

They’re both silent, catching up on their breath. He crawls on the bed to hover over her. “Show me,” she teases. He smirks, kissing down her body until his mouth hovers over her heat. Peter doesn’t take his time, though, as he flattens his tongue on her folds. He laps up and down slowly, her arousal dripping all of his face. 

Her panting deepens, nearly choking on her own saliva from whining at the irreplaceable sensation Peter’s bringing with his tongue tracing circles on her clit and his fingers slowly playing with her wetness, begging to be inside her as she says, “Please.”

Peter fingers her slowly at first, picking up the pace as her moans grow deeper and her hands roam to his hair, tugging at it in a way that makes Peter work his fingers faster and his tongue more intricately. She loses herself, letting the wave of ecstasy consume her completely, ascending into a plane indescribable pleasure. Peter doesn’t stop rubbing at her G-Spot, and MJ pants, “more, harder, faster.”

He takes a second from sucking her clit to say, “I wish you could feel how hard I was.”

“Let me feel you,” she moans. “All of you. I want to see how hard I make you.”

He kneels on the bed, presenting himself in front of her – open and vulnerable. The moonlight shining through his cheap curtains makes his skin glow. She says, “touch yourself.”

Peter nods and listens, his hands moving from the base of his cock to the tip, slowly like he’s teasing himself. She watches his eyes shut down and his pumps move faster. He breathes, “MJ.”

“Yes?”

“Tell me what to do.”

“Come down here,” she says, “And feel how wet I am.”

He finally sinks down and lets his body hover over her. He fingers traveling up and down her folds before he uses the head of his cock to tease her. MJ closes her eyes in an attempt to keep patient. Finally, he slides in and rocks himself slowly. 

“You’re so wet,” he answers her. “I didn’t know anyone could ever be this wet.”

“That’s what happens when you don’t learn how to stop talking, Parker.”

“Maybe I should never stop talking, then,” Peter pants, laughing at her remark. They giggle, their motions losing rhythm for a beat to pause in laughter until Peter thrusts one thick stroke at her sweet spot and she rolls her eyes back. He’s kissing her neck as her screams get louder. “They’re gonna hear you.”

“I don’t care unless you do.”

He hums into her neck before sucking on her skin, “You’re so sexy. Anything you say makes me want you to come so hard you scream my name.”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” MJ tucks her hands behind her head as she completely allows Peter to take over for the both of them, thrusting into her as he squeezes her hips with one hand and rubs her clit with the other. 

“I’d love it.”

The word catches her off guard but she ignores it and, plus, Peter’s working his fingers and hips and voice all at once to make her come for the second time. She can’t possibly focus on anything else right now. Certainly not the L-Word. 

“Em, I’m gonna come soon,” he says. “You feel too good around me, I can’t take it.”

“Come for me, Peter,” she encourages him. “Come all over me.”

Her words take him over the edge, obeying her commands as he pulls out of her and comes on her belly. Beads of sweat start falling from her temple. She didn’t realize how stuffy the room had been when they first walked in. Peter grabs a clean towel from his closet to wipe MJ’s belly and two shirts – one to throw over himself and another for MJ. She slips into it quickly. 

After running back from the bathroom, MJ finds herself tucked into Peter’s side, both of their breaths still catching up, although MJ knows Peter’s already passed his refractory period. She tries not to think about it, knowing this opportunity is perfect to let him know how she feels.

Except she hasn’t thought about it much, only knowing that she might not be ready to start something, but she misses being around him. 

“It’s hard to give you space,” Peter surprises her. “You’re my best friend, Em. And not being around you this week has thrown me off completely.”

“Me too, Peter,” she admits. “I don’t think we should ignore each other.”

“I thought so, too, and I got so scared that you liked being away from me.”

“I could never,” MJ looks at him with the most sincere eyes she can give. She really doesn’t want to lose her best friend. “Maybe we need to be slower with this.”

He knits his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“Maybe, for now… we’ll keep it at what we’ve got going on.”

“Like, just sex?” he asks.

“What do you think?” she returns quickly, searching for the answer in Peter’s eyes, but for once, it’s hard to read him. Being friends with benefits is a start – an opportunity to test the waters and see if she’s ready to be a girlfriend to her favorite person. MJ wants to date Peter, she wants to build a relationship and grow with him but has no idea how to without messing it up. 

She needs to learn how to ease herself into things before throwing herself into the void of the unknown without being prepared for hurt. 

MJ doesn’t notice how long time has passed before Peter answers, “Okay.”

“As in, you’re okay with doing that?” 

“Sure,” he shrugs. Peter’s quiet for a beat before he asks, “What are the ground rules?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, is this exclusive?”

“It can be whatever you want it to be, Peter. No rules.”

“And we’ll still be best friends?” Peter asks, MJ feeling her chest tighten knowing that that’s the number one thing Peter cares about. 

“Of course we are,” she smiles, holding her arms open for Peter to sink into. He tucks his head at the crook of her neck and drapes one leg on top of her, their bodies messily tangled as they fall asleep. And as she starts to drift off, MJ repeats to herself that this is the best she believes she can be for Peter without losing him completely. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @spideysmjs on Tumblr! (I changed my briens URL and i'm still in shock because i've had that for like, years now). 
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are incredibly appreciated. 
> 
> Thank you all for being so patient with me. I also hope you are all doing well. <3


	6. chapter six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's here! Yay! 
> 
> Oh, and shoutout to machiavelien, too, for making such beautiful art based off this. When I tell you I screamed. And cried. Check it out [here!](https://machiavelien.tumblr.com/post/622092714101669888/spideychelleweek-2020-day-7-only-one-bed-from) Thank you ♥

He extends his arm over to the left side of the bed in a sleepy haze, reaching for MJ only to find an empty space, the other half of his blanket pushed to the foot of the bed. The sheets are crumpled, but illuminated by the rays of sun shining into his bedroom. 

Peter loves Saturday mornings. 

Every Saturday, he happily sleeps in until 10:30am, when the sun shines on his face begging him to do something other than lay in bed hazily until he patrols in the evening. He listens to the sun often. He’ll get up, walk outside and see Ned and Betty making pancakes and MJ hanging upside down from the couch watching Neil Degrasse Tyson narrating an extremely inaccurate documentary about space. He’d know. He’s been there.

But after Peter yanks himself out of bed, completing his morning stretches and tossing on a shirt, he walks out to see Ned and Betty’s breakfast adventures already tidied up and tucked into the corner of the kitchen counter for Peter to pick off the leftovers. The living room is empty – no narrations about the universe humming in the background. 

No MJ. 

There’s a pull of strings at the bottom of his heart, a feeling that – in the past week – has become all too familiar for Peter. He should’ve expected MJ to be gone considering the agreement they had come up with before falling asleep the night before, Peter remembering the way he lied through his teeth when he told her he was okay with keeping things physical. Now, ten hours later, the sickness in his stomach is almost hard to avoid knowing that although he didn’t lose MJ – although she promised that they’d still be best friends – there’s a hollow feeling in his heart that’s dragging him down.

Maybe staying in bed is a smart idea; maybe the sun is wrong this morning. Just as he’d decided to give up with only less than an hour of waking up, his phone rings from his bedroom. Peter rushes back to his bedside table, desperately hoping it’s MJ. 

It isn’t, and Peter would be more upset if the caller hadn’t been one of his favorite people in the world. “Hey, May.”

“So do I have to call first in order to hear my nephew’s voice these days?” she asks. She has a point, as she always does. “You haven’t even told me about your fun little vacation last weekend!” 

“Sorry. The second I got back to New York, Tony had me go over to the compound and work on suit updates, and I just–” Peter pauses, sighing. May’s voice flipped a switch in him, like her presence automatically begs the truth from him. “I think I messed things up.”

“With the suit? Honey, I’m sure Tony Stark has enough technology for you to try again.”

Peter chuckles, shaking his head before he says, “It’s not about the suits, May.”

“Well, then what is it?” 

There’s a beat. He contemplates. He knows the moment he opens up to his aunt is the moment he has to face the reality of his consequences. May has a way of knocking senses into him. “What are you doing for lunch?”

“This is exactly why I called,” Peter can practically hear her smile through the phone. “I’m at the Farmer’s Market by your campus, and I was going to ask if you needed anything. Plants, non-GMO produce, a meal.”

“How about all three?” he jokes. “I’ll meet you there, May. Love you, too. Bye.”

He hangs up his phone, scrolling through the contents just in case there’d been a message from MJ, but the only message is from Betty.

**bets:** chocolate chip pancakes wrapped in the foil for when you and mj wake up, sleepyheads!!!

His stomach does the stupid drop thing again. 

* * *

She didn’t even go home before coming here. She doesn’t have her laptop – the source of all her study materials. Hell, MJ doesn’t even have a backpack. It’s just her, running her fingers along the spines of old books, dressed in the clothes she had hastily tossed on the floor of Peter’s bedroom the night before. They were barely on last night, but of _fucking_ course, the fabric smells just like him.

Peter Parker. Her best friend – a title that felt like a goddamn consolation prize after the conversation that they had last night. She exhales loudly, an exasperated sigh traveling across the tiny, dust-infested sociology section of the library. Despite the ancient structure of the sociology section because all ESU does is fun the STEM departments, this little area is her favorite place to be. She loves sitting at the old, wooden tables – the ones that are untouched except for the sociology majors that are brave enough to enter these halls and dig for research outside of the online hub that they have. 

MJ’s one of the brave ones, but mostly because she doesn’t believe there’s anything as exciting as flipping pages through textbooks rather than getting poor eye strain from the blue light of her laptop screen. It’s that, and the fact that she can hide in this building, put her phone in airplane mode, and not be found by her best friends on the days where MJ wants to run away. 

Today’s one of those days.

Even if she _is_ periodically checking her phone for a text from Peter wondering where she is. 

“Struggling with Jackson’s research paper?” a voice makes her jump, MJ realizing she’s been staring into space – her eyes leading to the very article that Jackson referenced the entire week, despite the fact that she hasn’t even thought about the paper since the day Jackson announced its due date. 

She looks up at the voice, and of course, it’s exactly who she thinks it is. Jay. She squints up at him returning, “Is it really struggling if you haven’t even started?”

He laughs and finds himself sitting on the floor next to her. She scoots a little over, keeping a barrier of distance between them. “So why are you here on a Saturday morning?” 

“Like you said, I’m here to write a paper.” 

“With absolutely no laptop or _anything_ to document your thought process?”

She taps her head with one finger, “All up here, bud.”

“As much as I _know_ you’re here for something else – I do feel like it is plausible for you to have a photographic memory.”

“You do?” MJ raises her eyebrow at Jay. 

He nods casually. “Of course. I don’t know anyone else who enters REM sleep in Jackson’s lectures and can still hold up a debate with a dumb frat dude taking the class for a GE.”

She snorts. “What can I say? I love wreaking havoc in a lecture hall.”

“You mean spewing knowledge?” 

MJ tucks her lips in, hiding the smile on her face. “So why are _you_ here? Hoping to pick up some girl at the library?” 

“No,” he shakes his head and sighs, getting up from the floor. He offers her a hand, but she stares at it until she uses her own arms to push herself from the ground. “I needed to check out a book before I head off to work. So I could write my paper later.”

“Where do you work?” she pats the dust off her clothes, the shoelaces of her boots shaking as she taps her foot repeatedly.

“ESU-FM.”

“What?” she widens her eyes. “No way.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he brushes her off, MJ witnessing a little smile curl on his lips. “I don’t talk or anything. I just pick the music they play, and sometimes I book the interviews.”

“That’s awesome,” she offers. She gets a giddy feeling her stomach. She’s listened to ESU-FM since she was a freshman. “I heard that y’all have an awesome studio.”

“It’s pretty dope,” Jay says. “Wanna see it?”

She taps her phone screen again. No new messages. Fuck it. 

She nods, “Yeah, let’s go.”

The studio is way better than she would have imagined. There’s no part of the walls that are left blank, each area covered in posters and stickers gathered from decades of events and campus history. MJ’s done extensive research on ESU-FM. She knows the first cohort of radio show hosts created a two-year-plan to start a radio station on campus. She also knows it took three years, and the first cohort only had their senior spring semester to create content for the student body. 

Twenty years later, and MJ’s standing in a room that holds so much more than just exquisite taste in music and entertaining interviews. 

“Wow,” she lets out. “I could live here.”

Jay chuckles, stuffing his hands in his pocket as he says, “I basically do.”

She watches through the window two people talking passionately in the studio. 

“Those,” he points over to them, “are my best friends. They do more of the talking. I’m not interesting enough to say anything special.”

“You could also work on your radio voice,” she quips. “You can barely keep me awake in lecture.”

“I don’t know if you know this but,” he leans closer to her and whispers, “It’s not my job to keep a student awake in a class they signed up for, Michelle.”

She snorts. “MJ.”

“What?”

“My friends call me MJ.”

“Oh,” Jay smiles. “Well, MJ, maybe you should stick around here more often.”

“Maybe,” she ponders over her choices in college thus far, not remembering why she hadn’t conspired harder to be a part of the radio station. She wonders if she’s made the right choices so far, looking down at the ground as her heart clenches in misery once again – though that feeling hasn’t really left since she snuck out of Peter and Ned’s apartment earlier this morning. 

She didn’t do a wonderful job at being stealthy, tiptoeing outside Peter’s room only to run into Ned who was making his way back from the bathroom. 

“MJ? Need the bathroom?” he asked. When she thought about it, her stomach _did_ feel unreasonably sick, but alas, it was just her morning dose of anxiety. 

Wonderful. 

“No, um–” she hesitated, her hair blocking half of her face as if it would help her hide from anyone who ran into her. “I was gonna leave.”

“And skip out on Saturday breakfast?” he gasped, face painted with sadness. “What’s wrong?”

“Ned, I don’t need this right now.”

“What are you talking about? Is something going on with Peter?”

She scoffed as if Ned should know exactly what happened between her Peter, but a part of her was genuinely shocked that Peter hadn’t run to his roommate after the run-in with Liz last weekend. “You tell me, Ned.”

“I’m confused,” he knitted his eyebrows, confused. “I thought y’all talked after the cabin.”

“Something like that,” she huffed. “Your best friend doesn’t know how to talk about his feelings.”

Neither did she, but admitting that to Ned would only mean she’d be confirming how unreasonable she had been acting. 

Ned whispered, “I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, me neither,” she rolled her eyes. A beat. Her lips trembled. “I still don’t.”

“Oh,” was all that escaped him until MJ decidedly had enough. 

“I gotta go, Ned. I just. I can’t do this right now,” she slipped vaguely. Ned still looked confused. But anyone who watched Peter and MJ’s relationship closely would be. “Can you just… can you do me a favor?”

“What?” he asked. 

“If he asks… can you just pretend that you didn’t see me this morning?”

“MJ…” he hesitated. 

“Ned,” she looked at him as she felt the tears start forming in the corner of her eyes. “Please.”

He stared anxiously around the hallway and licked his lips. “Okay. Fine. I promise.”

“Thank you,” she made her way further into the hallway before he called her name out one more time. “What?”

“He loves you, you know that, right?”

She paused, closing her eyes before turning to face Ned again. “You know Ned, sometimes that’s just not enough to make things work.”

“It should be.”

“But it isn’t. And sometimes love just makes things even more complicated because you can love someone so much that you jump into things sooner than you should have, and all your insecurities get thrown into your face, and your biggest fears of being an inexperienced lover become start to reveal itself.” 

And then the tears traveled to her chin, dripping slowly. 

“Are you sure you want me to lie and say we didn’t have this conversation?” Ned returned. MJ took another deep breath knowing she shouldn’t take out the frustrations that were birthed from her complications with Peter out on Ned. Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to make eye contact with Ned, turning around and walking towards the door as she answered him.

“I’m positive.”

When MJ brings herself to stop replaying her early morning conversation with Ned, she realizes that Jay had walked away from her and towards ESU-FM’s extensive record collection. She remembers that he came here to actually work, and nothing else. 

His friends’ radio show ends, both of them taking their headphones off and stepping out of the studio. Jay moves inside, getting ready to play his selection of music for the afternoon. The two of them start bickering immediately as the show stops. 

MJ smiles. 

“Hi,” one of them calls out. “I’m Kim. This is David. He’s my co-host, but also, unfortunately, my best friend.”

David nudges Kim. She nudges back.

“I’m Michelle,” she grins as she watches them go back and forth.

“If you’re so ashamed of hanging out with me, then stop texting me to hang out,” David jokes.

“Whatever, whatever. Michelle, are you one of Jay’s friends? Did he trap you into coming here?” Kim laughs. 

Jay pokes his head out of the recording room as he shouts, “She is! She told me to call her MJ and said only her friends call her that!” 

“Only because he won’t stop _accidentally_ running into me,” she says quietly. Kim and David laugh. “How long have you been doing the show?”

“Since freshman year,” David answers. “I met Kim at a ESU-FM meeting, and she hasn’t stopped bugging me since.”

Another playful shove. Kim adds, “because he dragged me to his dorm to listen to his roommate's mixtapes,” she gestures to Jay in the other room, “and then these two nerds became my life after that.”

MJ can’t help but grin at the two of them sharing stories of how they met. 

She thinks of when she met Peter at the dining hall. They instantly clicked, bonding over how they both liked their eggs sunny side up. She mentioned something about missing her mother’s home-cooked meals, and immediately, Peter brought her to his dorm to try his roommate’s mom’s food.

And then the two nerds became her life after that.

“Come on, Kim,” David whines, dragging his feet across the floor to the other side of the room, plopping on the couch. “You _know_ I’m your favorite person ever.”

MJ watches as Kim fondly rolls her eyes, locking contact with MJ as she shakes her head – a tinge of blush rising in her cheeks so quickly. MJ knows that exact feeling. “Yeah, yeah. You are, and if I say it, you’ll hold it over my head forever, loser.”

“Indeed I will.”

MJ misses Peter so much, listening to Kim and David’s conversation as if it’s something that she’s heard before because she _has_. And she misses having them.

And she misses when things were fucking normal because, fuck, life is so much harder when you aren’t able to talk to your favorite person in the whole world. 

MJ hears David laugh at Kim making fun of his hair. David runs his hands through his hair. Kim watches. 

She has to leave. Like, right now.

How could she be so stupid as to ditch Peter this morning?

“I– I have to go. Sorry,” she mumbles. She looks at Jay through the window of the recording room. He’s in his element, mixing the records effortlessly. He waves at her. She smiles, using her thumbs to gesture to the entrance. He nods, holding up a finger before taking his headphones out and making his way out the door.

“You leaving?” he asks. 

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I have to meet up with someone,” she answers truthfully.

“Oh,” Jay nods. “Okay, sure. Here.” He grabs a business card out of his pocket and hands it over to her. “ESU-FM needs more people like you to host.”

“Yeah?” she laughs. “Has this been your plan all along?”

He laughs. “Actually, yeah.”

MJ blinks. “Really?”

“Ever since the very first debate you had this semester in Jackson’s.”

She chuckles. “I’ll think about it, Jay. But there’s something I need to take care of right now.”

He smiles. “I kind of figured you weren’t at the library in near tears because of a research paper.”

“I wish it was as simple as that.”

There’s a pause in their conversation. MJ is itching to leave, but for some reason, can’t seem to move. Her body truly has a mind of its own, separate from her brain. Jay offers, “Well, I dragged you in here, so I might as well save you from this place.”

“ESU-FM’s founders are very insulted right now,” Kim announces. “I mean, I wouldn’t know, but I would. You know?”

“Exactly,” David agrees without hesitation.

“What do you say?” Jay asks. “We can stop and get a cup of coffee before you go and have your conversation?”

She sighs. She doesn’t need this right now – some guy who’s too persistent on getting a damn cup of coffee. She pulls him aside so that David and Kim don’t listen.

“Look, Jay. I appreciate all of this but…” she sighs. “I’m not interested. I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t think you were,” he laughs. “I’m not trying anything, MJ.”

“You’re not?”

“No. I genuinely wanted to show you ESU-FM.”

“Oh,” she sighs. “I’m such an idiot. I’m sorry. I’m just–”

“You don’t need to explain anything to me,” he reassures her. “Unless you need someone to listen to you or give you advice. I’m pretty good at that. Ask David.”

He quickly raises his eyebrows, facing away from the two of his friends. 

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” he whispers. Kim is tucked under David’s arm as MJ looks behind Jay. She nods and laughs with him as he adds, “So what do you say?”

MJ thinks about it. Maybe it isn’t bad to get insight from someone who isn’t Ned or Betty. Maybe going to the ESU-FM studio, seeing the studio and watching David and Kim flirt with each other, and asking Jay for advice is what she needed. A new perspective. A new space. 

“A cup of coffee sounds nice,” she says.

* * *

“And then she was gone,” Peter says, hands still wrapped around a mug of now-cold coffee, too wrapped up in his story – from the beginning of the cabin – to now. 

May listens intently, waiting for Peter to finish his summaries before grabbing his hand and squeezing it. “Pete, you have to talk to her.”

“That’s what I’ve been told,” he sighs. “I don’t know May. There’s so much that goes in my head when I think about her. And when I talk to other people, I can never stop talking about her or thinking about her. But when I look at her… I feel like if I don’t say the right thing, then I’ll ruin everything.”

“But what is _not_ talking to her doing right now?”

“She already told me what she wanted, May,” air comes out of his nose, voice trembling. “But I don’t know if I can do that.”

“Then why did you say yes?”

“I–I don’t know. I just figured if I said yes, then I wouldn’t lose her completely,” he says, voice frantic and desperate for an answer knowing that even from all the wisdom that she holds, May could never solve the puzzle that Peter put himself, even if he had the pieces in front of him. It’s something that he needs to figure out on his own. Peter knows this.

And yet, he doesn’t even know where to begin.

“May, I don’t want to lose her.”

“I think that,” May says as she lets go of his hand and starts tapping her fingers on her empty mug, “no matter what will happen – as long as you put everything on the table, it will be okay.”

“Really?” he raises a hopeful brow. 

“You love her,” May says. “I don’t think you had to even say it out loud for everyone else to understand that. But maybe she needs to hear it. Again.”

“But what if it’s too much?” he mumbles, picking at his nails. “Love, I mean.”

She gives her nephew a worried look. “Too much love?” 

“I love too much. It’s scary. I think I freaked her out,” he says, “Because of the relationships I’ve had before. I ruined them all because I loved too much.”

“Whether she thinks it’s too much – which I doubt – or just right,” May responds as she looks Peter in the eyes intensely, “You won’t know until you talk to her.”

‘You’re right,” he looks down at the solid film of creamer that’s formed in his cup from not drinking the beverage fast enough. “I’m gonna call her today.”

“Good,” May smiles, looking at her watch and yawning. “Well, I think I need to take a nap before my shift at work.” 

“Let’s go,” Peter suggests. “Thanks for listening, May.”

“Of course,” she stands up, pulling Peter into a hug. “Protect your heart, Peter. But don’t be afraid to have one.”

They let go of each other’s arms, Peter effortlessly grabbing all of May’s purchases from the Farmer’s Market in one hand and offering to accompany her trek home. He swings the door open, only to meet the eyes of the person he’s been thinking about all day.

“MJ,” he almost gasps. “Hi.”

“Hey,” she responds as she sweeps hair off her face. There’s a silence that falls in between them, Peter’s hand still holding the café door open. 

“I was just–”

“I meant to–”

They both laugh awkwardly. Peter urges her to talk first. 

“I meant to tell you that I left this morning because I had to finish my research paper.”

“Oh. Cool. Yeah,” Peter grips the door handle tighter, not sure what to do with his entire body as he continues to block the doorway. “I was going to text you and ask what you were doing later.”

It’s only from hearing a cough coming from behind MJ does Peter notice the other person standing near her. He’s tall, his hair gelled perfectly into a combover with the sides of his hair faded like he’d gotten a haircut just today. 

“Oh,” Peter breathes, exchanging looks with MJ and the stranger. 

He feels May’s hand touch his shoulder softly as she enters the conversation. “MJ! Sweetie, how are you?”

Immediately, MJ lightens up, her face loosening up as she talks to May. “I’m good, May. Just looking for some mid-day coffee.”

“That’s what we just did too, before my shift at work.” May clasps her hands together. “Well, we’ll chat later, MJ. I hope you’ve been reading the next chapter of _Where the Crawdad Sings_.”

“I have,” MJ smiles. Peter opens the door wider for her and her friend to walk through. She doesn’t even introduce him, only mumbling, “thanks” as they walk through. Peter can’t tell if she looks nervous or caught or tired or everything all at once, but he doesn’t say anything after MJ. 

Once May walks out first, he finally closes the door behind them, not knowing where in the week he ruined it to the point where MJ's going on coffee dates with other guys immediately after wanting to be just friends with Peter. Maybe it isn’t what he thought it was, and, honestly, it probably isn’t.

But God, does it still hurt.

* * *

“Fuck,” MJ groans. “ _Fuck_.”

“What’s wrong?” Jay wrinkles his face as they wait in line at the coffee shop. “Did you not read the next chapter of the book?”

MJ blinks. “Rule number one of being my friend: I _always_ catch up on readings.”

“Noted,” he says. “So what’s wrong?”

“Remember the person I said I needed to talk to?”

Jay nods, and MJ smiles nervously, gesturing to the door. “Oh.”

She sighs. “Yup.”

“Why didn’t you say anything? Like I’m in your class and we have a research project?”

“Rule number two of being my friend: I always tell the truth.”

“That’s technically the truth.”

“Next!” the barista calls out. 

As soon as they get their drinks, MJ sips her black coffee in silence, replaying the embarrassing interaction with Peter in her head several times. His grip on the door. The way his face fell when he saw Jay. His silence because she didn’t introduce him or explain _anything_. But when it comes to Peter, she’s at a loss for words – never wanting to risk saying something that could mess everything up knowing how fragile the tightrope they’re walking on is. 

“Jay,” she catches his attention. “Earlier at the studio, you nodded over to David and Kim and said what was going on between them was obvious.”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “I don’t get why they don’t see it.”

“What if they do?” she hypothesizes. “Like, they both like each other but won’t do anything because they’re scared.”

“I could get why they’re scared,” Jay shrugs, “It’s years of friendship riding on that risk.”

“Yeah,” MJ tucks her lips inward as she contemplates whether she should have taken a risk that night at the cabin. She wishes she could go back and warn herself that she could potentially lose her best friend. 

Maybe she wouldn’t have gone for it with Peter.

“But I don’t know,” Jay continues. “I think they’re good for each other. And if it doesn’t work… at least they tried.”

“Try,” she mumbles to herself, knowing now exactly what she had to do.

* * *

Peter’s in bed by 8pm. 

His mind continues to trail off to his encounter with MJ and her friend. Or classmate. Or whatever. It shouldn’t matter. 

They promised each other to just be friends. With benefits. It’s a situation Peter never thought he would find himself in knowing he leans more toward serious relationships than casual. 

Peter doesn’t want casual. He wants...comfortable. He wants someone who gets him, someone who will accept everything that comes with being him.

He wants MJ. All of her. 

And as much as Peter’s upset about what had happened earlier at the coffee shop, the only thing bothering him is he didn’t say anything more. He could have asked her to hang out. He could have texted her afterward like he claimed he would. 

He misses her so much. Her laugh. The way she calls him _dork_ while she laughs. Her lips and how she licks them after he kisses her. Her tongue grazing along his jaw as her hands fall softly on his chest. He thinks about when she’d swing her legs on either side of him, stripping her shirt away as she grinds down against him.

Peter takes a deep breath, dropping his phone next to him as he brings his hands down to his thigh, squeezing them softly as he moves up and down his skin. He feels himself hardening as his hands travel to the places on his skin that misses MJ’s touch, tracing the areas where she’d make herself at home.

MJ feels like home.

He finally tucks his hand beneath his boxers, take a deep breath as he sinks lower, grabbing onto his member. Peter’s breath hitches as he pumps slowly, working himself up for more friction; still wishing he had said something today, wishing that MJ was with him right now.

Peter’s phone starts ringing. He chokes on-air, yanking his hand out of his boxers as if he’d been caught. He lets the phone ring twice more until he looks at the Caller ID. He swears his heart stops beating. That, or it’s beating so quickly that not even Peter’s spider-sense can catch the feeling.

He presses answer, breathing in and out, waiting for MJ to say something.

There’s a pause for a while until, softly with a hint of her own humor, she points out, “You know usually when people answer the phone they say hello.”

Peter can’t help but laugh, quietly and still out of breath from the act he was about to commit. “Hello, MJ.”

“Did you just wake up? You have your morning voice,” she whispers like it’s a secret. 

“Yeah?” he returns, remembering the mornings they’ve shared together, all of them ending in breathless moans and filthy promises. 

“What are you doing right now?” 

“I’m in bed.”

“Me too,” she breathes. “I’ve been thinking about you.”

“Me too. About you. Not myself,” he stutters. She laughs and it makes his heart pump faster, her giggling is the symphony of the century. Music to his ears. To everyone's. “I miss you.”

Peter can hear the smirk in her voice as she says, “What do you miss, Pete?”

“What do you mean?” he puts his phone on speaker, balancing the device on his chest as he stares at the ceiling. 

“Do you miss… my lips?”

He sees where this is going.

He doesn’t want to stop even though he knows they should talk it out before doing this again. From what Peter learned today, he plans to put everything on the table. MJ needs to know everything, needs to know what Peter wants despite automatically agreeing to her suggestion about only being friends with benefits. 

Somewhere in the middle of his endless stream of thoughts, he whispers, “I do.”

“What about… my hands?”

“I miss how they feel on my body.”

“Where on your body?” 

“My chest… and arms… and… you know.”

“I do.”

“Sh–should I?” he gulps, shutting his eyes. 

“Do whatever you want me to do to you, tiger.” 

Fuck. Peter takes a deep breath, hand traveling to where it was headed to before MJ called. Again, he starts pumping slowly as he swallows, “Okay. I am.”

“Me too,” MJ admits. He can hear her breath hitch. He moves his hand faster.

“MJ–”

“Yeah?” she moans, her voice on Peter’s phone echoing throughout the room. He wishes he could be with her – he wishes his tongue was traveling from her mouth to her jaw, making its way to her collarbones. Peter wishes his face was in between MJ’s legs, hands gripped around her thigh as he tastes her. 

“I want to taste you,” he says.

“Oh,” she whimpers. “ _Peter_.”

His chest tightens – the heat on his cheeks spreading throughout his face, Peter suddenly feeling a wave of frustration crashing onto him. The weight of the consequences has found itself hovering over Peter, ready to drop any second. 

Peter stops. “I can’t do this.”

She gasps loudly, a harsh sound, making Peter wince. “Shit.”

He waits semi-patiently expecting an explanation. There’s a shuffle of blankets and finally, MJ pants, “I dropped my phone.”

“It’s fine,” he smacks his eyes shut again, hating himself for ruining the moment they were about to share, but firmly believing that the two of them shouldn’t be doing this right now. Not when so much debris has snowed down on them after their lips crashed against each other just a week ago. “I just– I can’t, Em.”

A beat. Her breath starts slowing down again. “This wasn’t why I called.”

“It wasn’t why I answered.”

“We need to talk. Like really talk,” she says. “Can… can you come here?”

“Okay.” Peter already finds himself getting out of bed, tossing the blanket haphazardly spread across the mattress. “Be there in 5?”

“ _Five?_ It’s nearly a half an hour walk,” she says.

“I’ll just swing over,” he says. “It’ll be fast.”

“Peter...” MJ warns him, her voice suddenly stern. “I can wait, it’s okay. You shouldn’t go out in the suit if you’re not planning to patrol.”

“It’s fine, MJ, I do it all the time.”

“Okay,” she relents. “See you.”

As soon as Peter hangs up the phone and changes out of his home clothes, he webs his phone onto his suit. He tiptoes to his window, peaking out of the window and down onto the alley streets. When he acknowledges that the coast is clear, Peter crawls out of his window and sticks onto the wall. He uses his hands to close his own window shut before aiming his web to the side of the building across the street. 

Once he’s in the air, he feels the rush of the wind moving in the same direction as him. Peter deems it a sign that he’s doing something good – moving in the right direction with MJ. This is a smart choice. Another _thwip_ , switching buildings, gliding through New York under the moonlight. 

It’s a moment of pure bliss. Peter loves swinging around the city. It’s become a part of his DNA, memorized and structured to release serotonin in his system. He’s never felt more at home than when he’s in the sky. 

Unless he’s with MJ. And that’s where he’s headed to.

Finally, everything will fall into place with her. With them, and what they will have.

 _This is it_ , Peter thinks. 

MJ’s apartment building is just around the corner, and then suddenly, a strong strike of nerves travel in his spine, reverberating throughout his body like an alarm. Like a warning.

Something is wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Day Seven of Spideychelle Week! Yay! 
> 
> Now, I can binge read all of the beautiful stories that were posted from the past few days. I'm so excited and happy! Thank you all for loving Peter and MJ as much as I do. This has been so fun.
> 
> @spideysmjs on Tumblr if you wanna chat more!


	7. chapter seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EEEEEP! It's here! Thank you all for being so patient with me, and thank you all for sticking around and reading my pure whims about Peter and MJ!! 
> 
> Enjoy!!

Peter is always late.

There’s nothing different about it this time around. When he says five minutes, MJ doubles that. So, as the clock ticks and more minutes pass, she doesn’t want to jump to conclusions, despite having given Peter a warning before he had left. 

Even if he does get caught in a run in, Peter will be fine. 

MJ knows it. 

Peter always jumps into danger, it’s the nature of who he is – the nature of Spider-Man. 

MJ understands. She has always understood.

From the moment she had figured it out their freshman year of college, she understood. But for as much as she _does_ understand why Peter has an innate call of responsibility, there will always be the small needles of fear that poke through her skin when he dons on the mask, even if it is just to swing across the city and meet her at her home because he is and always will be Spider-Man, before anything else. 

It’s fine with MJ. But what isn’t fine at all, is that very _real,_ very _possible_ idea that one day, Peter won’t make it to her window. 

The idea of Peter getting hurt–or worse–lingers constantly at the back of her head, an irrational yet completely rational fear: irrational because MJ knows he’ll pick himself up, and rational because maybe there’s something out there that even Spider-Man can’t recover from. 

_God forbid that,_ she shivers, goosebumps far from unfamiliar traveling down her spine, reverberating throughout her body like a warning.

She walks over to her window, unlocking it and cracking it open – ready for him to crawl through, safe and sound. Near the window, MJ peers through the glass and looks out to the street in the direction of where Peter should be coming from. 

The city is silent.

A few deep breaths later, she rushes to the closet near the kitchen, shuffling through items until she finds the emergency kit she’d started building after the first night Peter appeared in her dorm room bruised and bloodied from an encounter with the Manfredi Crime Family, and she was embarrassingly unprepared – the only help MJ was able to provide was her presence.

She smiles to herself, remembering the words that escaped Peter’s mouth when she apologized profusely. “You being here, that’s enough, Em. It always is.”

Still, she wanted to be prepared.

And now, as MJ peeks into the kit, there’s an endless supply of rubbing alcohol, needles and threads, and other precautionary items if an incident as big as the one from freshman year were to happen again.

The fact that it’s almost been half an hour since their phone call warns MJ tonight might be that night. Though it’s never an unusual thing, Peter coming in bruised, broken, black and blue. 

That idea, perhaps, is what hurts MJ the most. 

It’s an idea that weighs down on her, MJ sitting crossed-legged on the floor, hunching over the emergency kit. 

How can she still selfishly be worried about love at a time like this? It’s a time where Peter might be in danger, _might_ being a hopeful stretch, though MJ is nearly praying that he’s just running late like the idiot he is. Like the idiot that she loves.

MJ does love Peter, and it’s silly to think that it took a somewhat drunken one night stand for her to finally accept this, when their lives have been tied together in a closeness that no one else understands since they had met. Hell, she forgave him for staining a copy of her favorite book and hung the pages above her freshman dorm bed.

Her face is burning from the amount of times she’s checked her phone, frustrated that Peter didn’t even take two seconds to ask his fancy suit to shoot her a text. Yet, she refuses to be hell-bent on such a small action that wouldn’t even be remembered in their future.

She chuckles at that thought. _Their_ future. 

Thinking about her life in unity with Peter Parker is a new concept, the entire idea making her stomach bubble with both excitement and fear, the pessimistic part of MJ’s brain convincing her that Peter’s coming here to talk about how he doesn’t want to be in a relationship with someone like MJ. It’s that negative idea that’s been toying with her head the second she decided to acknowledge the deep rooted love she has for Peter.

Desperation is wringing MJ dry, and she knows this because her dumbass is crawling across her apartment floor, dragging her body rather than getting up like a sane human being. She makes the stretch to the foot of her bed where her backpack lays, halfway zipped, still stuffed with the notebook that she had jotted down her feelings in – the ideas that she wanted to throw onto Peter. 

MJ reads them, laughing to herself at how calculated and planned she’s tried to be with this entire conversation, laughing at how she’s brought up the idea of discussing and analyzing and overthinking onto the table. 

As she slowly reflects on the kind of person Peter is, the person her best friend is, she accepts that maybe life needs to be spontaneous with him, and that’s how it will be.

What Peter and MJ have – it wasn’t planned out for them when they met. 

It wasn’t destined. 

It was a feeling that MJ has grown into from the way she watches Peter laugh at his own jokes to the stupid way he folds his laundry, only for her to scold him to fold it the right way. He’d promise to do her dishes the next time they cook dinner together for study night. She’d roll her eyes and smile. He’d leave during study night because of an emergency, and the first few times, tears would well up in her eyes. He’d hug her tight and tell her it was okay. She’d stay up late and wait until her own exhaustion forced her to sleep. 

But then she’d wake up, and he’d be there, sitting on the table at five in the morning with tired eyes as he continued studying for organic chemistry–his least favorite subject–after destroying an evil villain.

Then the realization hits her:

Just as often as Spider-Man gets back up from being knocked down, Peter Parker will always find his way back to Michelle Jones. 

Back home, she thinks.

So, MJ rips the pages from her notebook, crumpling them up and tossing them into a corner because those ideas do not matter anymore. What matters is what she feels the moment he swings through that window and dammit, he _will_ , and no matter how late he is – even if it’s 5 in the morning before he stumbles in – she will be awake and ready to welcome him in her arms.

It’s a little past midnight, and MJ’s tucked herself in bed, wide eyes glued to the ceiling as she tries to shoo away her worst assumptions. Unsure of how much time has passed, she sits up, leaning against her headboard as she fiddles with her fingers, thinking.

Her idea, she admits, isn’t one that’s well-thought-out. But still, she lifts herself from her bed to grab a coat from her closet and her most sturdy boots. 

She’s going to look for Peter. 

He could be in the streets, injured, and unable to move. She can check the alleyways first, then maybe the nearest hospital. Or maybe she can call Tony Stark, because, for as much as MJ is reluctant to get to know the guy, he always knows what to do. 

Finally, she grabs her keys and ties her hair into a bun, ready to walk out the door, when she hears a loud crash behind her – a body landing on the weak wooden floor of her studio apartment. Quickly, MJ turns back, dropping her keys and leaving her front door open, rushing to Peter’s side. 

Her heart rate increases the closer she gets, sliding through the floor to end up at his feet. 

Peter’s curled up, forehead resting on the edge of her bed and hand gripping his side, another Spider-Man suit ripped along his waist and along his back. Just as he’s about to completely collapse, MJ kneels and catches him, using her strength to pick up his dense body and assist him onto her bed. 

Through his heaving and groans, Peter says, “I don’t want blood on your bed.”

MJ doesn’t listen to him, only pushing him onto the mattress to help him sit up. 

“Em,” he says, blinking slowly as if the world was blurry. “I’m fine.”

“Bullshit,” she says, her fingers sweeping his sweaty hair back after he pulls his mask off, revealing more cuts and bruises on his lip and cheekbones. MJ holds in tears, breathing deeply as she walks over to the emergency kit. She returns with rubbing alcohol and a towel, occupying the empty side of the bed as she leans in and cleans Peter’s skin. “Let me.”

With slurred words and exhaustion in his throat, Peter asks, “You have this?”

“Yep.” She focuses on his jawline, one hand wiping the blood as she wonders how long it has been since the blood was first fresh. MJ flashes a quick glance at Peter, who’s already gazing at her – a look of exhaustion and endearment mixed with the light brown eyes that makes her melt with every glance. “Surprised?”

He smiles. “Uh–no. I just… thanks.”

“Turn over to your side, Pete,” she orders him and he listens. “We gotta cut the suit.”

Peter sighs and nods. “I suppose it’s better than letting myself bleed out.”

“I suppose,” she snorts and at a lower decibel she mumbles to herself, “dumbass.”

“You know I have really good hearing right?”

She rolls her eyes with the same lovable energy she saves only for Peter. “I know.”

MJ rips the suit apart with scissors, letting the fabric fall to Peter’s sides, revealing the gash beginning at his hip and traveling along his stomach and to his chest. She wants to know what happened, but she’s too afraid to ask. 

She waits for Peter to explain, and he does as she digs for the needle, so his wounds can heal faster. 

“I ran into The Prowler,” he answers her the question she asks with the way her eyes travel along with his gashes. “There was a heist.” He winces as she starts to clean the blood with iodine, but MJ knows it hurts her more than it hurts Peter. “I stopped it, but… it came with a bit of a price.”

“It’s good that you stopped it. I knew you would.” 

“You knew?” he knits his eyebrows. 

“I mean, I figured. You were a couple of hours late, Pete. And…” she trails off as she begins to stitch up his side. “When you go out in your suit… I just know you’ll be late.”

From the corner of her eyes, she sees the look on Peter’s face sink, a pout forming. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

MJ doesn’t make eye contact, not wanting to lose focus on the task at hand. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Peter, it’s okay.” She starts to loop the wounds, her hands shaking in a way that tenses the air around both of them.

“MJ–”

“Peter,” she stops, her voice cracking right before her eyes blur with tears. “This is… this is already hard to do, okay? We can just talk after.”

“But–”

“Please.” 

“Okay.”

She takes a deep breath, using her arm to wipe the salty trail falling down her cheek. Before going back to stitching, she stares at Peter’s body again – at his wounds and how she knows they’ll be gone in the morning. She brings her hand beneath the gashes and feels his muscles tense, only now taking in the way his abs look like they were sculpted by Greek artists. 

_Now’s not the right time to think about this at all, Michelle._

She shakes her head and laughs to herself.

“What?” he asks. 

With complete honesty, she explains, “your body. Hard to focus when you look like that.”

In the glow of the moonlight, she witnesses Peter’s cheek turn red hot, the color of blood, passion, and desire – funny how that is. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I’m not,” he grins. The pit of MJ’s stomach falls apart with the smile that’s painted on Peter’s face despite the pain he’s gone through tonight. 

Still, her hands shake. It’s hard. She accepts that, and she knows Peter understands it because he brings his hand to hers and squeezes it, steadying the nerves that have bundled up from when she initially went on autopilot to tender to his injuries. Peter says, “You don’t have to do this.”

“I know,” MJ swallows thickly. A beat. “I want to.”

Peter squeezes her hand once more and lets go, allowing her to finish up the stitches. 

“I’m sorry again.”

Everything he says hurts her in a way that can’t be fixed because she doesn’t want him to apologize, and she wants him to know that him being Spider-Man – him having this responsibility to save the city and everyone in it – isn’t a burden to her. 

When he starts to go into detail about the fight he got into, she asks him politely to stop. She doesn’t need to hear the details, only happy that he’s okay. 

Peter apologizes again, and automatically MJ says, “It’s okay.”

She weaves the last loop, closing the stitch and cutting it with scissors. She says, “Wait here.”

In her closet, she digs for clothes he can wear, only for her to find the shirts that he always leaves just in case it’s too late to go home from a study night. It’s when she curls an old science shirt in her hands does MJ realize that Peter wouldn’t stay because it’s too late, but because he just wanted to be there. With her. 

MJ tosses the shirt onto him. “Uh–if you want. Or you can just… let the wounds heal for a little.”

She also doesn’t mind staring at his body some more. Respectfully, of course. Peter tosses the shirt softly at her face and she pretends to be offended, feigning a scoff. “You like what you see?”

MJ smirks to hide the heat rising in her face. “You know I do.”

“Can’t be as amazing as looking at you.”

“Shut up, dork.”

“Never,” Peter says as his own hands trace along the stitching. “You did a good job.”

“Thanks,” MJ says, sitting at the foot of her bed. “Last time this happened, I don’t know if you remember–”

“Freshman year–”

“Yes–”

“I remember.”

She swallows, ready to further embarrass herself for how much she stupidly cares about this boy, hoping that her confession doesn’t push him away or make him uncomfortable. “I just… I was so scared that I had to prepare next time. I like–I love being here for you. Through everything.”

“Come here,” he says. “Please.”

MJ crawls across her bed, tucking herself in his open arms. She leans into his body carefully, hoping to not cause any more injuries to his body. Peter relaxes to her touch as she sinks into him. She can’t help but let her fingers roam his bare skin, cleaner now because of her. 

“Thank you, Em. Really,” he sniffles. “Like I said, you don’t have to do this, you know? It’s okay.”

She sighs, a bit of frustration building up. MJ tries her best to hold it in, but due to her nature, she can’t and she says, “Cut that out, Parker.”

His arms are still slung around her. “What?”

“Saying that I don’t have to do this. It… it hurts my feelings.” 

She feels like the biggest baby for admitting in the only words that make sense to her at the moment. A grown-ass woman, and yet she feels like a big, bumbling mess around Peter. It scares her how much she loves him – how the feeling is so incredibly overwhelming that she loses her train of thought attempting to let him know. 

That same fear has been the barrier that has been blocking MJ from explaining herself all week, ever since she woke up pressed against him for the first time in that damn magical cabin. That one bed that forced them to accept their feelings for one another, the same one that may have caused a ripple effect of stupid consequences that resulted from MJ not knowing how to be honest with herself. 

So admitting that one, small sentence – despite how childish MJ feels like she might sound – is a big deal. A very big deal.

“Oh,” he says. “I didn’t know–I won’t say it again.”

She breaks like a dam. “It hurts because–because, dammit Peter, you know how much I want to be there for you. In the same way all your past girlfriends have been, and–and it’s hard because I’m not like that. I can’t… I can’t be that person for you, so I’m trying to be there for you outside of… of romance.”

“MJ…”

“It’s–it’s not my fault. I don’t know how to love– I just,” she closes her eyes to hide the vulnerability that she’s exposing to Peter. Everything that she says now cannot be taken back. It’s in the air, the tension building higher than when he had stumbled through her window, broken. She says, “I just don’t know how to love you the way you want to be loved. And that’s why I pushed you away. I’m scared.”

“MJ–”

“The way I love… it’s broken,” she admits. It’s the only way she’s known, thinking about how she grew up in a household with parents that loved her deeply, but couldn’t be together. “I’m broken.”

“You aren’t broken,” Peter says, withstanding the pain that strikes his body as he turns to face her in bed. 

“I am.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” he says. “Because I love you, no matter how broken you feel.” His thumb grazes her cheekbone, wiping away the tears and waiting for a beat as he continues, “I know you love me, Em.”

“Yeah,” she whispers, leaning into the way he cups her face. “I do. Love you.”

“That’s all I need,” he says. “And I should have told you before–even before we went on that ski trip, but I just… I was so afraid that I’m too much for you.”

She opens her eyes and meets Peter’s. He’s crying, too. 

“You’re not too much,” she breathes. “You’d never be too much for me.”

Now, it’s Peter’s turn for his voice to tremble, a fear escaping his throat in the same way that MJ had confessed. “When you told me you loved me, I couldn’t believe it because you’ve seen me mess up so many other relationships that I didn’t think you’d want to be with someone like me. Someone who so easily falls for people. But I want you to know something, Em.”

“What?” she asks as his hands move from her cheek to push her hair behind her ears. The moonlight reflects off his face, Peter’s eyes glowing in a way that she’s never seen before. Somehow, every time she watches him, he takes her breath away. 

“The love I have for you I have never felt with anyone before,” he says firmly. “I promise.”

“You’ve made a lot of those in the past week.”

“I know,” he sighs, his hands retreating from her skin. Immediately, she misses them. “And I know I’ve been a mess–”

“So have I–”

“But I’m going to make it up to you every single day of my life, if you’ll let me.”

“Peter,” she smiles, only now realizing she’s a big bawling mess of emotions dripping down her face and falling from her chin. 

“MJ,” he says. “I hope you know you’re there for me like no one else ever has.”

“Peter,” she repeats, her mouth unable to say anything other than the name of the person that makes her feel whole.

“You are, and I’m so stupid for not letting you know this–”

“You’re not stupid–”

He snorts, eyes giving her a look screaming _are you sure about that?_

Even through her sobs, Peter makes her smile like she’s soaking up the sun. “Okay, fine.”

“I love you.”

“I love you,” she says. “I love you so much.”

“So, so much. It hurts. In a good way.”

“In a wonderfully, weird way,” MJ says. “No more bullshit between us, okay?”

“No more,” Peter presses his lips, confirming. “It’s us now. I can’t–I won’t mess this up. You deserve the best from me.”

MJ straightens her back and sits up as she expresses, “And you from me.” 

It’s not a one way street – their love. Both of them establishing and understanding this sparks a feeling inside MJ’s chest that she hasn’t felt since the cabin, where she had thought it would all fall apart. Maybe it had to, for everything to come together. That’s life, she guesses. 

So she kisses him, ignoring the cuts in the corner of his lips and the slight taste of blood. 

Even after the nights they shared, hot and heavy, this kiss seals every promise that Peter has made and washes away every anxiety MJ feels about love. This kiss, deepening as Peter sneaks his tongue in between her lips, sends her heart flying with adoration not just for Peter, but for the two of them and everything that they’ve been through, and especially, for herself and how brave she has been for letting Peter in.

And then the kiss turns into something more desperate, a tingling sensation reverberating around her body that she’s never felt before and she’s amazed that with every time their bodies have connected, Peter never fails to make her feel like an entirely new person. 

MJ lifts herself up, straddling Peter with her legs on either side of him – a position she’s grown familiar with but this time it’s different. 

This time, there’s clarity in the way that they meet eyes and know from this day moving forward, they will choose each other. 

Peter closes his eyes for a moment, and MJ remembers that he still has scars that are actively healing. Before she tries to kiss him again, she offers, “Oh, right. We don’t have to–”

But he interrupts her with his hands sliding down from the small of her back and down to her ass, squeezing it as he pulls her closer to him. His hands lead the way her hips grind down on him as he moans, the sound he makes only deepening MJ’s arousal. 

She lowers her body, pressing her chest against his as his hands continue to do work, kneading into her skin as they grind against each other, MJ craving more friction when she feels Peter hardening beneath her. 

No teasing this time, she notices. No more uncertainty because she knows this is what they will work towards. 

“MJ, I can’t believe this,” Peter’s voice hitches. Her face is buried into his neck, hot air on skin as she feels Peter shiver from her breath. “I’m so lucky to have you on top of me, making me feel good.”

Her brain feels fuzzy and she can’t respond, Peter having the upper hand on moaning filthy, filthy words that make her panties damp and her center crave more than just the feeling of fabric rubbing against her. 

“You’re so beautiful and I love you. And I love the way that your ass feels in my hands. And the way you shake when I pull you closer and kiss your neck. Can I kiss your neck MJ? Will you let me?” 

She lifts her face up, exposing the skin that Peter nearly begs for, and suddenly, his mouth presses onto her skin, sucking on the area that makes her squirm. And he’s still working her hips as he bucks his own upward, and she’s so wet that she can’t handle it anymore. His tongue dances against her skin and she uses her own hand to touch herself, drenching her fingers in her slickness, moaning Peter’s name repeatedly. 

Swiftly, his mouth nibbles at her ear. He whispers, “I want to make you come.”

His hands move from her backside to the hem of her shorts, pulling them down. He brings two fingers to her panties, making circles against her clit over the lace. Peter groans, “Fuck, Em. You’re so wet. I can’t believe it. You’re soaking. I just want to feel my fingers inside you. Can I put my fingers inside you?”

Surely, Peter knows what he’s saying is turning MJ into a mess, all she does is say yes in between heavy moans, and she doesn’t hold back from nearly begging him to put his fingers inside her because it’s Peter and she can be as vulnerable as she wants. 

It’s Peter and his promise to love her despite feeling broken.

It’s Peter loving her so much that she radiates a different kind of energy that she never thought she would feel in a million lifetimes.

It’s Peter and his fingers pushing her panties to the side and dipping them into her slickness after MJ lifts herself from grinding against his groin. His digits feel thick inside her, and MJ can’t help but ride them, moving up and down with haste as Peter curls his fingers, rubbing a spot that sends more shivers down her spine. 

“Do you want to come, Em?” he asks her. She bites her lips, no answer as she keeps riding his fingers. “I think you want to come. Can you come for me?”

“Yes, Peter–” she confesses right before she nearly screams through her orgasm, no longer able to move her hips but it’s okay because Peter’s free hand steadies her balance while the other drills into her, the feeling of release taking over MJ’s entire body. 

She collapses on top of him. He kisses the top of her head, hair sweaty from riding his fingers, feeling herself spill all over his boxers. 

He asks simply, “Are you okay for more? I don’t want to be done, but if you want to be done, we can be done.”

Still recovering, MJ asks, “What do you want to do? Can you show me?”

In a quick motion, she yelps as Peter grabs her waist and turns their bodies to switch positions, now hovering over her. He lifts himself up, his legs keeping her pinned down. She tilts her head and drags her eyes across his body. His stitches are already, slowly disappearing. Again, he smiles and says, “Hey. I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“Not more.”

“I don’t know about that, Pete.”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Always.”

“You make me feel like it’s okay to be myself no matter what. Because sometimes being Spider-Man sucks, but you accept me and… wow, I’m just so grateful.”

He sinks lower, his hardness resting against her crotch, their underwear the only barrier between them. 

She smiles, a big and bright thing. Fireworks in her brain explode and her heart beats faster. “You aren’t you without Spider-Man.”

“I’m not Peter Parker without you, MJ.”

And god, the grin on his face makes her transcend onto another plane of existence. With courage, she instructs, “Come here, tiger.”

Their lips meet again, soft and slow at first until she impatiently bits his lip and sneaks her tongue into his mouth. In between the kisses, Peter says, “ _T_ _iger’s_ new.”

“I don’t have to say it if you don’t li–”

“I like it.”

She laughs and says it again until his kisses melt into her mouth. He drags his tongue along her jaw and to her ear, nibbling it before traveling down her neck and to her collarbones. MJ can hear him whisper, “Wanna make you feel good. So good, Em. Just as good as you make me feel.”

“Show me, Pete.”

His lips move lower, stopping at her shirt. He says, “Can you take this off for me?”

She lifts herself up, getting rid of her clothes. 

As she lies back down, Peter’s mouth meets her breast, tonguing at her nipple in a way that makes MJ buck forward, the pressure of Peter’s legs pinning her down and driving her wilder. His mouth moves to her other breast, giving them the same tender touch with his tongue before he drags himself lower, peppering kisses along her chest and down to her stomach. 

He loudly gives her belly button a sweet smooch. 

She chuckles, only for Peter to dive down to her panties, releasing a hot breath that makes MJ’s entire body quiver with fervor. She carefully lifts herself to his mouth and he accepts the touch, his lips kissing her damp center over the lace. 

“Take them off,” she says. “Please.”

“I don’t know–I kind of like making you squirm like this.”

MJ rolls her eyes, pushing herself up into his mouth softly. “No more teasing.”

“No more teasing,” he nods as his eyes glance upward at her. The view she has is astonishing, Peter’s hair tousled in different directions with a smirk painted on his face that makes her impatient. “It’s us now.”

“Us,” she agrees. Peter tucks his fingers into her underwear and pulls it down slowly. 

“I can’t believe I get to taste you,” he says. She closes her eyes at his remark. He leaves one, soft kiss against her entrance before saying, “I love the way you taste.”

And then, Peter quickly flattens his tongue against her folds, moving up and down and making her legs writhe, wrapped around his neck. He finds the apex of her center, licking circles at the nub in quick motions, MJ’s mind exploding like an entirely new universe is forming inside her. 

Her hands make her way towards his hair, combing through it before giving it a slight tug that only makes Peter press his mouth harder against her cunt. His thick and tense arms wrap around her legs from beneath her, spreading her wider. 

His mouth feels like heaven, MJ seeing stars in the same ceiling she had bored her eyes into just a few hours ago, waiting for Peter. 

And now he’s here. Peter is here with her, making her feel good and loving her in a way she never thought she could be loved, making her come once on his fingers and then again with his mouth eating her out with a tenderness that she can only find from him. 

She bucks her hips up, almost feeling bad for how aggressively she tugs Peter’s hair when she comes for the second time, only for him to suck on her lips harder, even after she sinks back down. He doesn’t stop, and she begs for more. 

“Peter,” she gasps, “ _Peter_.” 

He lifts his mouth from the area between her legs and looks at her, a smirk forming at the corner of his lips. “Yes, Em?”

For some reason, she tenses, finding an appropriate way to tell him how badly she wants him. She’s not as good with words as she thought she was – Peter blindsided her with the way he says, “Are you ready to come with me inside you, Em? Do you want me inside you?”

“Oh my God, Peter,” MJ croaks. “ _Yes_.”

He shimmies down the bed, arms still gripped around her thigh as he pulls her with him gently. Letting go of her thighs, he pushes himself up and stands at the foot of her bed. Quickly, he pulls her closer to him, MJ shooting her legs up as he cradles them with his arms. 

Peter tilts his head, smiling – his entire demeanor shifting into a look that tells MJ she needs to take a deep breath and prepare for the way Peter’s going to make her come for the third time that night. He’s determined, one arm letting go of her leg as she curls it closer against her body spreading wide, watching Peter stroke himself slowly as he takes a deep breath. 

He drags the head of his cock from her apex, teasing her folds as he slowly swings his hips back and forth, rubbing himself along her entrance. The way he curses under his breath makes MJ fall apart, filling her full of want – want for Peter, want for this night to last forever, but at the same time eagerly awaiting the future that they finally promised one another. 

Her curled leg falls down against his leg, Peter raising her other leg and letting her foot rest on his shoulder as he finally slides himself inside her, both of them exhaling a deep breath rooted in satisfaction of finally connecting and becoming one. 

Peter bottoms out inside her, resting his hips as he grunts, “Fuck, Em.”

“I’m trying,” she jokes. He shakes his head at her quip.

“Let me… let me get used to it.”

“Okay,” MJ smiles at him, squeezing around his shaft as he twitches in arousal. His hands pinch her waist in protest, only for her to yelp in laughter and pleasure all at once – a feeling of familiarity as she hears his chuckle echo her own happiness. 

Peter is her best friend, and he always will be, as she promised him before when the future of their relationship was clouded with uncertainty, only from that same promise to come back with more vigor – with more passion because MJ loves Peter, only Peter, and she wants to show him that every day. 

One deep thrust shifts her up the bed, but Peter’s grip around her waist pulls her closer and pushes him deeper inside her. Her mouth is open with shock, and indescribable buzz of passion, arousal, desire, traveling up and down her spine. She doesn’t want to close her eyes, her gaze locking with Peter’s as he thrusts into her more, the physical feeling of Peter inside her wrapped in a layer of care, love, and fulfillment as he throws his head back and moans her name. 

“Em–I– _God_ –you feel–I feel, _Em._ ”

With her own hands roaming and squeezing her breasts as he continues his thrusts, hitting all the right spots, MJ finally has the upper hand as she listens to Peter get lost in his own thoughts. “What’s wrong, _tiger_?”

“Oh,” he grunts, his hands moving from the waist and back around her legs, spreading them wider. “Nothing’s wrong–you’re perfect.”

She laughs and shakes her head, only for Peter to thrust deeper, making her hips buck upward, but he responds by helping her lift herself a little higher, angling their bodies in a way that sends a feeling of electricity to her heart. MJ pants, “You’re perfect.”

“I love you,” he says, words escaping his mouth with each calculated motion. 

“I love you,” she says because she can without feeling scared. “I love you. I love you.”

Then, silence – save for the gasp of breath and the squeals of pleasure filling her entire apartment in a loud echo of harmony. MJ feels her entire body shaking, Peter pushing in and out of her, their limbs tangled in a way that their feelings once were. 

Finally, her entire body lifts up, a third, striking feeling of euphoria coursing through her, Peter continuing to bury himself inside her center, riding out her orgasm in a way that lets MJ know he’s studied her body – he knows her. 

Peter knows her so well, Peter loves her so much, Peter is hers. 

And he curses, thrusting as much as he can before he says, “I’m coming, Em, I’m–”

When he pulls out she lets her legs rest on either side of him, watching Peter come undone as he strokes himself. Quickly, she does her best to sit up on the bed, wrapping her mouth around him just as he finally empties himself out.

“Oh my God,” he brings both his hands in her hair, carefully so he doesn’t hurt her. Just as he finishes, she looks up at him, one arm wiping her mouth as she swallows. He pants, “ _MJ_.”

She shrugs, winking despite her breath still recovering. “What?”

The hands in her hair move to cup her face on both sides. Peter pushes her hair behind her ears and smiles. “Come here.”

MJ stands up, bringing her bare chest against Peter’s. He kisses her nose before she presses her lips against his. She rests her head on his shoulder, and in the moonlight they sway their bodies in silence, feeling each other’s heart rate calm down. 

When she pulls away from him, sitting back down at the edge of the bed, MJ examines his body. 

The scars are faint already. 

Peter sits next to her, leaning his head against her shoulder, intertwining his fingers with hers. At the same time, both of them take a deep breath and say, “Wow.”

Laughter fills up the silence in a way that feels like home. 

Her eyes feel heavy, from the tears she spilled as they confessed their fears to the way their bodies moved in tune with one another. She yawns, stretching her arms next to Peter as he tickles her waist. MJ playfully hits the top of his shoulder, and he pretends to be injured. 

_Funny_ , she rolls her eyes. 

They take turns to use her bathroom, MJ freshening up and rinsing her face – not wanting the night to end just yet. When she walks out, she sees Peter lying with his eyes closed, breathing deeply.

She shakes her head but lets it go knowing the night he had. 

Plus, lying next to Peter – watching him breathe as he gets rest, watching his body perform miraculously to his advantage, makes MJ feel more at home than ever. Her heart soars, witnessing his chest rise and fall, her eyes well with tears again but they’re of pure bliss knowing that what once fell apart is slowly coming together. 

And just like her shaking fingers tracing over his wounds, MJ can feel their love healing in real time. 

She peeks at the time on her phone, minutes close to 5 in the morning, and with her heart swelling, she silently declares this hour to be theirs. 

Maybe she’ll tell him that in the morning, and maybe MJ will even tell Peter the embarrassing list of ideas she had written down, or maybe she won’t say a word because Peter just knows her, and she knows Peter. 

Maybe they’ll make breakfast together, maybe they’ll get bagels from across the street. 

Maybe they’ll meet up with their friends, or maybe they’ll spend the whole day hidden from the world. Anything’s okay, so long as she wakes up and Peter’s there. 

And Peter will be there, she knows it now as she’s known it before. 

MJ decides to stop thinking about tomorrow, her eyes getting heavier, Peter’s breath relaxing her. Their plans for tomorrow can wait. Tomorrow’s plans, like any other thought about the future, are uncertain – their love the only thing that anchors MJ with comfort. 

And so she remains silent because all MJ craves right now is to wrap her arms around Peter, and just hold him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh!!!! I hope you all liked it. As always, kudos and comments are appreciated. 
> 
> Feel free to chat with me on [Tumblr!](https://spideysmjs.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> Check out Machiavelien's beautiful [artwork](https://machiavelien.tumblr.com/post/622092714101669888/spideychelleweek-2020-day-7-only-one-bed-from/amp) for this fic!! It's gorgeous!!!


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